Threads of Destiny
by DamoclesFolly
Summary: A search for the end of the beginning. An adventure in the WH4K universe. Romance! Suspense! Violence! There will be blood. Rated M for violence, language and adult material. R&R!
1. An Antique Bloodshow

A/N Standard Disclaimer: Warhammer 40,000 is the property of Games Workshop. No money is being made from this publication. Feel free to draw from the original content if you feel inclined.

**Threads of Destiny **

"For ten thousand and one years the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile in his golden throne and witnessed silently the slow inevitable fall of man. Ten thousand years of suffering at the hands of its enemies, the Imperium has lasted only as long as it had on the principles of honor, sacrifice and a damn stubborn refusal to quit. Whole world's populations have died to stem the tide, placed upon the altar of war in supplication to the callous gods. But this does not please them. No matter how great the sacrifice they always demand more! More blood, more souls, more time spent in pursuit of a peace that will not come! The greatest of men have tried! Assisted with the most clever of machines and the most powerful of magic's they have tried. Tried and failed! It's beyond the scope of the common man to grasp the power needed to affect such a radical change, such a change as peace. I myself have spent untold decades contemplating the means of such an end. So long and we have lost so much…"

The man's monologue died off and the broker let out a relieved sigh. Ever since the strange man had first entered his shop he had been talking almost non-stop. First it was all concerning the object, asking about its discovery and the history of the piece; these things the curator understood. After all it was why they were here in an abandoned warehouse. . But then the man had started to wax philosophical, stroking the tablets designs and speaking out as if to some invisible audience; it was then that the collector had first come to suspect the current state of the man's mind. This the broker could not understand, truly there was nothing awe inspiring about the piece, at least not in the common sense.

The item itself was a small nondescript stone set carving, seemingly a series of random lines with a series of concentric rings circling it, made up of some undecipherable gibberish language. Truthfully it held little aesthetic value, possessing of almost no color and few ornamental features. Furthermore it had a crack running down one side, as if it had been a part of a larger piece at some point. However it was remarkably old, being the product of some xenos culture or another that had predated the current millennium by at least couple hundred thousand years time. At least that was the opinion of the appraisers that he had visited

He had first been contacted through the usual channels by the customer a few days ago, the interest not in browsing the collector's considerable collection but on acquiring a certain piece. Not actually owning the item in question, but once having the description related to him had found it had sounded vaguely familiar and sure enough as he had checked with his sources he had quickly located it. It had been surprisingly easy to come by, just a little pressure in the right place.

'Blackmail, works every time.' He mentally thought with a smirk.

Of course he had not told the man sitting in front of him any of this, him being shrewd enough of a business man to realize an opportunity to make some extra cash when he saw one. Taking in the man's almost crazed and readily apparent passion for acquiring the thing; he had nearly quadrupled his original purchase price when he relayed it over the com-line. The man had agreed and he had instructed him to meet him at the present location so the exchange could take place.

"So it is to your liking then?" he asked, a greasy smile quickly replacing the annoyed look on his face.

The man spoke, eyes never leaving the object. "Yes, it is very much to my liking." Though now he quickly held up a single silk gloved finger. "Though I think the price asked is to be a little steep for something this small and plain looking."

The merchants smile held but inwardly he cursed the man a blue streak. 'Why was it always the crazy ones who caught on to things left unsaid?' "True, but it is a rare piece and…"

The other man cut him off with a fixed stare, only now meeting his gaze.

"Of course it is rare, being a piece of restricted xenos craft under the Imperium Articles of Law. True its price should go up, being as it technically should have been turned into the Administratum for safe keeping and truly the risk of just holding it merits an increase payment."

The merchant did not like where this was heading and his voice rose in anger as he regarded the man in front of him with growing disdain. "Where do you get off preaching to _me _about procedure? You're the one who expressed interest about this piece in the first place. You knew what we were doing here was illegal! Now I suggest you pay what we agreed on or else." He reached into his pocket and removed a small switch operated short range transmitter.

The man looked at the device and raised one of his eyebrows. "Or else what?" he asked innocently.

"You think I'm frakking new at this?" he nearly quivered with rage. "Or else I press this little switch and my associates enter through that door and _beat_ the money out of you!" He gave the man a quick once over with his eyes and came back unconcerned. He was of average height and build, possessing of no apparent weapons and besides dressing like some jumped up spire dweller, was typical in every other way. 'Quite the opposite from the men that are waiting outside.' He thought cheerfully.

"Well we can't have that now, but really I have no intention of paying you anything for something that technically is mine anyways." He reached underneath his overcoat and the merchant relaxed as instead of the expected weapon he removed a small leather wallet. However the merchant found the end result to be more terrifying than any kind of killing device he could have produced.

"By the power of the Holy Inquisition, of the _Ordos Xenos_, I command you to release this contraband into my property and face the consequences of your actions under the full prosecution of Inquisitorial Law." The man stated calmly, flipping open the wallet to reveal the golden rosette of the Holy Inquisition.

The merchant panicked and resisted the urge to flee, void his bowels or do both. The Inquisition was something that was whispered in dark corners, equated to the level of baby snatchers and boogey men by the average Imperial citizen. They were the bane of criminals everywhere, though usually they centered their attentions on things that they deemed important enough to warrant their attention, leaving the more mundane of crimes to the Arbites. However that one of that esteemed order had seen fit to grace him with his attention…

Suddenly as quickly as it came the fear passed and his slack jawed look turned into a predatory smile. Inquisition or not, he was only one man and was soon to be out numbered five to one, with no weapons of any kind to help even the odds. Feeling the winds begin to change in his favor the broker's smile held and he reached under his tunic to pull out a concealed las-pistol. As an afterthought he flicked the beacon's switch (just in case), pointing the gun at the man's chest in case he made any sudden moves.

"Why aren't you confident? You come in here by yourself and expect me just to bow scrape and accept your demands? Ha!" he spat a thick wad of phlegm at the man's feet. "That's what I think of your "Holy Inquisition"!"

The man didn't react to his taunting in the slightest; indeed the only thing he did to show he had even heard him was to reach to his throat to stifle a cough.

The merchant laughed out loud at the Imperial servant's now obvious nervousness and found himself heartened by it. Out of the shadows he could now see the approach of his hired muscle, their hands resting lightly on heavy truncheons and other nasty instruments.

Feeling utterly confident now in light of his expected reinforcements, he placed the barrel of the pistol underneath the other mans chin and forced him to stand up on his tip-toes. Rising up on the balls of his feet he whispered into the man's ear.

"I know some people who'll pay a huge amount for the hide of an Inquisitor, even if it does have a few holes in it. Makes quite a trophy you know."

"Too bad they wouldn't pay the same for a speckled grox scragger." The man replied nonchalantly, as if their positions were reversed and he was the one with the gun.

Hearing his threat rebuked and then himself insulted the merchant stepped forward in anger, belting the man a heavy blow to the stomach and motioning his men to take up their positions.

"Why you son of a bitch! I'll frakking…"

However whatever threat he was going to carry out was forgotten as suddenly the skylight above them exploded and something huge and heavy hurtled to the ground in a rain of glass and screaming metal.

…

The Inquisitor picked himself off from where he had fallen, the annoyance on his face clear as he attempted to wipe away the dust.

"Just because you have a sense for the dramatic doesn't mean you have to make use of it." He muttered as he removed the miniature throat mounted radio and turned to regard the dark gigantically framed figure standing in front of him. It wasn't a pretty sight to behold.

Blood dripped from dull gray mechandritesas they retreated into the confines of the things tattered robe and bits of meat clung to its surface. A look around located the source of the mess and if one looked hard enough he could almost identify the remains of five men amongst the unidentifiable lumps of wet meat.

Ignoring this, the Inquisitor took a hop skip and jumped over the steadily growing puddles until he reached the table where the tablet lay. Picking it up he ran his hands once again over the lines, a look of rapture captured on his face.

Hearing a slight beeping he turned to regard the silent giant.

"Yes this is what we've been looking for. After all these years I finally found the damnable thing, Emperor be Praised." He spared his companion a sidelong look as the cloaked figure let loose another series of soft beeps.

"What do you mean it's smaller than you imagined?"

A pause then more beeps.

"Look after all we've been forced to do to get to this throne damned thing don't you think it's just enough that we have it?"

Beep.

"No?! Come on, everyone knows it's not the size that matters just as long as its use remains the same."

Another pause, another set of beeps.

"What do you mean that's not how it goes? I've always said it that way and what the hell does _that _have to do with it?!"

Slightly longer pause. Beep.

"Oh I get it… How the hell do you know that anyways? You don't even have a…"

One long indigent sounding beep followed by an ominous clicking noise.

"Oh, well then "big man", let's see it! You heard me!"

An embarrassingly long pause followed by a flurry of beeps.

"What do you mean you left it in the lander? Wait, no, don't answer that. Come on let's get out of here before I up and vomit."

The man walked out of the now silent room and the hunched figure followed, shaking with what could have been many things, but was probably laughter.

...

A/N Just thought I'd add an author's note here. Here we go!

This is my second submission to the wonderful and sometimes downright scary, world of fanfiction!

This time its a WH40k outing and I must say I am proportionally excited! I absolutely love the Warhammer universe, both 40k and Fantasy. My bookshelf is filled with the works of Dan Abnett, William King and Gav Thorpe. And while they may only be pulp novels with no philosophical value to them and while they may not be perfect, they may not be in high class, neither am I, so I like em'.

After all what's not to like? It's like the ideals of classical Romanticism and the setting of science fiction did the nasty and it resulted in the birth of a baby. A big, beautiful, violent, orky baby!

Anyways, erhm, where was I? Oh yes, so I hope you enjoy the story and don't forget to review!

Ciao


	2. First Impressions

The planet Tolis was not a nice place to live. Located near the western galactic edge of the Ultima Segmentum the world had once been a peaceful agri-world reminiscent of ancient Terra. However like its predecessor it too eventually had to suffer the ultimate subjugation of mankind.

It had started with the continued exploration of the galactic rim and the discovery of the abundant resources to be found there. At first the merchant ships merely stopped at the little backwater planet to resupply for their trip back to the galactic core. Centuries passed and the once tiny space port grew from a burgeoning collection of pre-fab buildings and an airstrip to a sprawling mega-plex with countless warehouses to store the ever increasing trade goods. Soon immigrants began to arrive from the core worlds, life time hivers who sought a new destiny on the frontier. Soon the once modest cities began to burst at the seams and the Administratum was forced to build up, layer upon layer of humanity, one atop the other. The first true hives appeared at this time and the people of Tolis rejoiced at their supposed ascendency to the metropolitan ideals of modern Imperial society. Life was good.

That was at least until some idiot had to go and mess it up. The end of the good times came about with the sudden realization by a certain planetary governor that there was even more money out there to be made. So he sat down with the merchant fleet and the Adeptus Mechanicus representatives and presented his proposal. Why bother bringing raw materials back to the core worlds when they could just process them at Tolis instead. After all the finished goods would have to come back by freighter anyways, so why not just cut out the middle man, saving fuel and time. And with all those immigrants it was insured that there would be a sufficient labor pool for his planetary improvement project to be achieved. He received a standing ovation.

It wasn't soon after that the first of the Mechanicus barges landed and soon after the first of the manufactories began to cloud the skies with their fumes. Smelters were constructed, on grand scale and the earth was strip mined for its gifts and the waters were drained to cool the forges. Soon all kinds of things were rolling off the production lines, tanks, planes, lasguns and toilet covers. Even more centuries passed and great orbital platforms were created, true ship yards where the Imperial Navy birthed their own special monsters. This just attracted even more Captains to the planet and the sky was soon almost blocked with space traffic. Not that the people would have noticed anyways. The air after centuries of noxious emissions was decidedly black with pollutants, the forests all but gone, only a few private garden sanctuaries. The landscape had become a hellish parody of a desert, radioactive dust clouds serving to hide the few remaining native species, now horribly mutated beyond anything seen before. The atmosphere burned away, the sun shone with an intensity not found anywhere else in the sector. You could die under the UV rays faster than you would of lack of food or water. And to top it all off the atmosphere was now toxic, you couldn't go outside without and rebreather and for extended periods a hazmat suit.

Not that anyone could spare time to go outside anyways. In the Avalon Prime hive the once proud immigrants whose ancestors had come to the then backwater planet and dreamed of a future for their children outside of the impenetrable concrete jungle of hive life they had left behind were living the same lives as their forebears. But it is the natural way of all things to come full circle eventually and society is no difference. The rich rise to the top and the poor are pressed to the bottom, in this case literally. The spires of the hives were occupied by the elite of the city, up where the air was continuously recycled and the UV dampeners spread overhead. The lower down the city, the lower on the society the people living there found themselves. From the crème de la crème to the middling scribes, farther down to the workers till finally all the way down to ground zero where the dregs of society lived. The homeless, the feeble minded and the diseased. The streets down there rarely saw the light of day and the whole place seemed dead on its feet as if daring something else to come and one up its state of misery, to take the crown of depravity and relieve its tiresome burden. And something did.

Underneath it all lay the Underhive.

…

"FRAK, FRAK, FRAK, FRAK, FRAK!" with every expletive another round flew down the half flooded alleyway. Pulling back behind the corner of the hab-block that served as his cover, the young man checked his mag-release.

"Yo Jax! You should watch your mouth; you're liable to offend someone!" A voice called and he spared an irritated glance at the figured crouched in a position that mirrored his, but on the other side.

"Good thinking Darrius! Don't want to make them angry or anything!" he laughed slamming another magazine into the pistols receiver. "It's nice to know that the guard managed to replace some of that dog shit you call a brain with something useful!" Leaning back out from behind the wall he fired another shots, this time hearing the satisfied thwack of impact and the meaty thud of something heavy collapsing. He stuck his head out around the corner for a second but pulled it back just in time to avoid the ping of an incoming bullet.

Seeing his undignified snap back the giant ivory skinned man across from him pulled back from shooting and continued their verbal sparring match.

"Maybe you should just leave it out hangin' next time, little metal in there might make it a bit less dense!" he flashed a brilliant smile and Jax couldn't help but let out a guffaw at their current situation.

Here they were, two of the most wanted men in the Underhive, facing down an entire gang of stimmed out crazies and they still had time to joke. A sudden silence brought him from his musings and he risked another look down the alley seeing the retreating backs of their red jumpsuit clad enemies. Soon the alleyway was clear, except for the bodies that had been left behind, and the young ganger got out of the half crouch he had been positioned in and struck what he considered to be a threatening/heroic pose.

"Well would you look at that, the lil' pussies ain't got the stomach to play with some real killers." He smirked and twirled his gun around his finger before pausing to blow imaginary smoke from the barrel.

"Or they're just sobering up enough to realize they can run _around_ the buildings instead of coming down in between them." The other man intoned and pointed towards the end of the block where a veritable horde of red jumpsuits poured from around the corner and began running down the street.

"Oh frag me. Run?" Jax whispered and he turned back to his friend, only to find no one there.

Instead he found himself breathing in dust trails as he scrabbled down the street after the larger man, a horde of red clad psychos in hot pursuit.

…

Bael Madeochen awoke with a cold start from a fitful sleep. He shivered as he rose from the cot, noticing the sheen of sweat on his pale skin as he did. Behind him his wife Sha'el still lay sleeping peacefully, too used to his night time fits of late to pay any mind.

Sighing under his breath, the warrior walked over to dresser and poured himself a glass of water from the crystal decanter. Taking a gulp of the cool liquid he returned to the bed and sat down wearily on it, the ancient wraith bone creaking loudly under his weight and ran his fingers through his long black hair.

"The same dream." He whispered, not loudly enough to wake his spouse but enough so he could find comfort in the sound of a familiar voice. This was the seventh night in a row he had woken up, covered in sweat and been forced to relive the same uneasy feeling, a feeling that grew worse and worse with each occurrence.

It always started out the same; he was back on Yeriathshar as a guardian in his thirty first year, rallied to repel the Chaos invasion of the Exodite planet. It was there that he had first met Sha'el, had first felt the spark that would change his life and determine his path for the next seventy some years. He remembered with a smile the night of passion they had shared below the Aquilo trees, wrapped up in a blanket with all the time they needed between them. He recalled waking to the sound of battle, a final desperate stand at the village. Tracer shot and bolter rounds flying everywhere, the screams carried on the wind as the animalistic soldiers of Chaos slaughtered the helpless villagers, the stench of burnt meat and excrement carried high by the summer winds. Tears came to his eyes as he witnessed the death of Sha'el, torn apart when he failed to shield her out of the way of tossed grenade. Her eyes, accusing as they focused on him with one final stare. It was failed destiny; it was the failure of love in its highest form. He was such a coward! He should have taken that grenade, not her. Instead he had saved himself, dove into cover, left her to die in his place.

The giant warrior clutched his hands to his head squeezing them tight together.

"No!" he moaned as the pain in his head doubled and he clenched his teeth.

He had taken the grenade blast; he still had the scars on his back to prove it! They had survived together, reinforcements arriving at the last moment. Together they had cleansed the village of the filthy Chaos scum and a week from then he had presented her with a moonflower, which she had accepted. They were joined together as husband and wife on that day and they had had fifty years of happiness together. Just last week…

"_Liar." _The voice was silky smooth, soft as crème fresh from the churn.

"NO!" he screamed as he glared at the darkness that the voice emanated from. "She loves me!"

It let out a hearty chuckle.

"_No she didn't love you, you just thought she did. Which is why you took her for your own, even though she pleaded with you not to. But you wouldn't hear her. So we raped her there underneath the moon, and then professed our love to an empty woman. Bah! She wasn't killed by Chaos, she killed herself the moment she made the mistake of trusting us!"_

"That's not what happened!" he was shaking now, rocking back and forth in the growing cold. Sparing a glance back at his sleeping wife, his beautiful Sha'el, he tried to compose himself. "I-I-was there, I saw…"

"_I was there too. I saw what you saw. We saw her spurn our love. She would rather die than sate our needs. And she got what she deserved, the bitch. It felt good to watch her suffer didn't it? Out there on the field, slowly bleeding out like a stuck pig she was. If only we had had time to play with her, instead of acting on impulse…" _the voice left the insinuation linger.

Bael closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands.

"no-no-no-no-no-no-no…" he panted, to which the voice laughed.

"_You should have seen the look on her face, when we tossed that grenade we found. Priceless! Oh wait you were there!_ It cackled in mad glee. _"The tears you wept, they fooled everyone. "A young lover mourning over his loss." They said. More like tears of joy! That was the first wasn't it? I can't seem to recall…yes it was. Because that's when we started our little collection." _Across the room a dark wood cabinet unlocked by itself and swung open slowly drawing Bael's eyes to it like a magnet.

Hanging from the inside of the cabinet, like a bizarre jewelry box, hung the remains of dozens of shattered spirit stones. They swayed like macabre marionettes in a non-existent breeze and Bael could almost hear the screams of the souls they once contained were swallowed whole by the Prince of Pleasure.

This was worse than being accused of murder, this was heresy, this was apostasy of the greatest level, sacrilege, this was…

True.

Bael howled in wordless anguish as he threw himself on the bed, clutch desperately at the still sleeping form of his wife.

"_So weak, it's almost amusing." _

Bael turned to face his tormenter, teary blue eyes full of hate.

The black skull faced helmet simply grinned at him in return.

"_Of course that's why I'm here now isn't it? Enjoy your peace in dreams for I'll be there when we wake to greet you." _The mocking laughter faded into the blackness, taking the demon with it.

Bael paid it no mind however, hugging the empty space in the bed with a single intensity as tears of sorrow sprung from his very soul.

…

The warrior woke with a start, cold sweat glistening in the still morning air.

"Those dreams again." He whispered to the empty room. "Here I am an Aspect Warrior of Khaine, one hundred and five years old and I'm plagued with of all things bad dreams." A smile broke on his face as he considered the absurdity. 'A Dark Reaper afraid of dreams? Master Shad'Thal must be spinning in the grave.' He broadened his grin as he recalled the old bastard's attentions fondly.

Rousing himself he stepped to the shower and loosened his waist length hair from its bindings. He let the warm water soak away the remnants of his night terror and with its disappearance came the forgetfulness of dreams by the waking world.

Stepping out of the shower he padded himself down with towel and turned to face himself in the mirror above the water basin. As always his reflection looked back, high angular cheek bones framing a face that was as lean as it was long. Large piercing blue eyes stared back pointed ears rose majestically through his loose curtain of midnight black hair.

'Perfect.' He thought as he admired his well developed and defined musculature, taking time to flex in a variety of positions.

He took the scented oils from their place on the counter top and applied them liberally, smoothing his skin and waxing it till it felt of silk. Then he took the wraith bone brush from its stand and ran it through his hair one hundred and five times. Then he bound it behind his head with a simple brown leather tie.

Satisfied that he looked as near perfect as he possibly could he started to walk over to his dresser but paused halfway in front of the room's only non-wraith bone furniture, a large wooden cabinet and ran his hand over the detailed engravings that adorned the sides.

"One day I'll remember where I put the thrice-cursed key to this thing." He murmured before turning back to his dresser.

He slipped on his leather loincloth and was about to reach for his armor's under suit when a knock at the door stayed his hand. Wondering who it could be at this hour of the day, the sparring field did not open until the seventh chime and the temple alarms would have been activated if the Aspects were to be deployed, he reached out to his apartment's door and swung it wide open.

The young woman in front of him took in his state of disrobement with wide eyes and her face reddened to match her auburn hair.

"Is there something you need?" he questioned, his voice carrying a hint of irritation.

Her emerald colored eyes quickly flashed back upward and she took a second to compose herself before asking

"Are you Bael Madeochen of the Dark Reapers Aspect Temple?"

"Yes."

"Your presence has been requested by the esteemed Farseer Ceran Melkith concerning a matter of utmost importance." She puffed, holding out a sealed envelope dominated by the symbol for the Craftworld Varantha backed by a stylized dragon head, the personal seal of the Farseer.

Bael took the letter and broke the seal with his fingers, quickly unfolding the message and skimming over its highly cryptic wording. Still a letter from the Farseer was, well a letter from the Farseer and it would not bode well to ignore such an order.

"You will relay my acceptance of her request; I will come just as soon as I finish with my morning preparations." He turned back and made to close the door, but the Eldar woman stepped inside before he was able.

"I was ordered to accompany you back to the Hall of Seers; I have business with the Farseer as well." She explained at his slightly annoyed look.

Hearing this he shrugged and pulled on his discarded under suit, noticing with some disdain that only then did the woman's blush begin to fade. Moving on to his armor's leggings he spoke to break the uncomfortable silence.

"I noticed your armor; you are from the Twisting Doves Aspect Shrine are you not?"

A brief undertone of darkness flashed beneath the young warrior's face, only to disappear to be replaced with the same haughty bearing as before. "Yes, I and my sisters answer the Farseer's call proudly." She announced proudly lifting her white and silver dove-winged helmet from her belt where it had been resting and brandishing it as if to validate her claims.

"Do you know why the Farseer has requested our presence?" he asked, tightening the straps that held his breast plate together until they came together with a click.

"No, I know as much of this as you do." She answered while casually inspecting his room. "My Exarch Gestui gave me a letter much like the one I gave you, she said it had arrived in the night along with the instructions not to open it until the fifth chime." She stopped in front of his dresser and picked up his suits helmet, taking in the hundreds of golden Eldar runes carved in the surface.

"You were on Geder's World?" she asked tracing the worlds name with her finger.

"Yes." He replied, now working on his vambraces, securing their pressure rings to the ports on his chest plate.

"What was it like?"

He stopped what he had been doing and fixed her with a steely glare.

"Dark." He said after a short pause, before continuing to assemble his suit.

After a moment the young Eldar voiced her discontent.

"That's it?" she asked expectantly, awaiting some kind of elaboration.

'She's going to be disappointed that I'm not the talkative type, this woman is trouble.' Bael thought as he finished with his gauntlets and turned to the final piece of his suit. '_Though she is pretty.'_

Bael started, nearly dropping the boot he had been carrying. Where had that come from? A quick glance showed him that the girl had not said anything, instead seemed to looking at him with a mix of concern and bewilderment.

"Are you okay? You looked alarmed or something."

"It's nothing." He deadpanned, finishing with his boots and snatching his helmet from her grasp. "We should go; we have wasted enough time here." Walking from the room with his helmet in hand, he didn't bother waiting for her to follow. Once outside he slipped his helmet on, twisting gently until he heard the sudden hiss of pressurization and the stale taste of recycled air. For a second he could have sworn he heard the faint sound of laughter, but put it down to his frayed nerves.

Taking long, powerful strides the big black armored warrior set off down the corridor, leaving the smaller white clad form to chase after him.


	3. Moon Running

Jax carried himself over to the ratty mattress that served as the rooms only form of furniture and collapsed, completely exhausted from the day's ordeal. The pair had finally managed to lose the pursuing horde amid the tangled passages of one of the hive's main ventilation shafts. Laying low in one of the myriad of side tunnels they had watched as the bloodthirsty mob had passed before doubling back down the central corridor to a predetermined bolt hole.

'And a hole it is.' The ganger mused, taking in the utter decay of his current surroundings. Located in an abandoned hab block, the apartment was little more than a single room, its furnishings and contents stripped away by some long gone looter. As far as he knew it the building was completely uninhabited, due to its distance from the central heating ducts that provided the under city with a steady supply of heat. The only people who knew about it were either dead or Moonrunners. That made it the perfect hideout.

'Well other than the fact that its cold as hell, smells like piss and this damn mattress is wet with Emperor knows what.' He moaned sitting up from where he had been lying and trying to wipe away the filth clinging to his back.

"Shit." His companion agreed as he kicked an empty beer can across the room. "What the hell happened back there man? How did the Reds know where we were?"

The smaller man shrugged and rifled through his pocket for a smoke. "I don't know D, ever since this kakking thing started we've been fragged so many times I've given up trying to understand the why." Pulling out the bent Iho stick he brought a light to it and breathed in the aromatic smoke.

They sat in silence for a while, Jax lying up against the windowless wall and Darrius leaned up against the kitchen cabinets, arms crossed. Finally Darrius broke the silence

"Do you think anyone else made it out?" he asked the question that had been on both their minds for the past two days.

Jax shrugged and blew out a stream of smoke. "I don't know, I saw Donnie go down when they first busted the door. Then Wing got smoked when we tried to get out back. As for the others I dunno, it was so fast."

"Little D's dead too." Darrius spoke suddenly, his eyes downcast.

Jax frowned and swore. "Are you sure?" Derek had been the youngest of the group and had been like a little brother to all of them, but especially Darrius. They had actually given him the nickname Little D because of his attempts to imitate the older gang member in dress and appearance, to the point where he had grown his hair out and tried to weave it back into dreadlocks. The result had been hilarious; his curly blonde hair had always been escaping from its bindings, making him look like some kind of wacked out chem addict. When Darrius had left to join the Planetary Defense Force three years ago, he had taken it hard, shaving his head and generally moping around. But he had eventually recovered and gotten back to his goofy self.

The confirmation of his death only served to darken the room's mood.

"Yeah." The other answered emotionlessly, reaching up to wipe some sweat out of his eye.

Noticing his friend's distress Jax tried his best to put a smile on his face.

"Hey do you remember the time he stole that pig's wallet and the guy chased him all the way back to his house?"

A small smile cracked on Darrius' face as he recalled the event.

"He he, man his mom was furious! Beat him to an inch of his life before the cop could even arrest him!"

It was Jax's turn to laugh now. "Ha-ha! The guy wouldn't even do that, he was so scared of Lil' D's mom he left without pressing any charges. Typical limp dick blue!" They were both laughing now. "And what about the time Kris told him that that bartender kept all his cash under his hat…"

"And he shot the guy's hairpiece right off!" the other man finished "Or when we told 'im he couldn't go on the Truloise gig with us and he…" he trailed off, the mention of their latest job and the ultimate cause of their current dilemma.

Suddenly the jovial air disappeared, replaced by sadness and anger.

"I'm going to ghost the fucker!" Darrius growled whilst grinding his fists together as if he had the man in his hands.

"Good luck getting close to em'." Jax responded, suddenly feeling a sense of melancholy he hadn't felt before. "Kakking coward probably has every goon in the district flocking to him, those that aren't fucking gunning for us."

His friend didn't respond, instead contenting himself with a scowl and punching a head sized hole in the wall.

It had seemed like the perfect job. They had all been lounging around the "clubhouse" one day and Wing had come busting through the door, the smile on his face showing he had news.

"Well are you going to stand there all day like a skraggin' dumbass or are you gonna share the love man?" Darrius had asked, he had just two weeks prior came back after being discharged from the PDF and was itching for some action.

"Yeah man don't keep the love cooped up!" piped up Derek as he popped up behind Darrius' shoulder. The larger man irritably slapped him away, only to have him pop back up again.

Wing waited for the rest of the Moonrunners to gather around before he began to explain what had gotten him so excited.

Vince Truloise was a big time runner of illegal weapons, shipping weapons in and out of Avalon Prime via his numerous contacts in the PDF. The fact that of the matter was well known in all circles that if you needed a weapon, whether a single las-gun, or a battalions worth, his gang the Griffons could hook you up.

He wasn't actually from the Underhive, occupying a penthouse in one of the Hive's tertiary spires. Instead he relied on his lieutenants to carry out the day to day operations, inventorying and shipping/receiving. He was well connected with the cities noble population as well, helping equip their private security forces in return for certain liberties in his activities.

Anyways, as Wing explained it, he had been in a local club and had overheard one of Vince's lieutenants talking to an underling about a transfer of inventory from one warehouse to the other. He also heard the man speaking about the specifics; apparently the underling was one of the guards assigned to guard duty. After Vince's top man had left, Wing sensing opportunity, had bought the guard a drink and proceeded to coax him towards some choice details. After several drinks he had succeeded wildly, getting specs on the number of guards and the route the convoy was taking.

After explaining all of this he turned to Jax "So whadda ya think?"

Jax refused to answer right away, instead telling them that he'd let them know his answer after thinking about it. He had risen to impromptu leader of the Moonrunners by not being stupid, in fact he was the exact opposite, in another life he could have been a scribe or perhaps an Adept of the Administratum. He knew that doing this would be risky, Truloise was a powerful man and would no doubt order some sort of retribution in revenge. However they had had experience in avoiding attention before, laying low after fights with rival gangs and law enforcement officials. Plus if they managed to pull it off, a haul of military grade weapons would let them ride the high tide for at least a year, easy to move and essentially untraceable. He weighed the risk and returned to the room with his decision.

"Alright, we're gonna take it." He stated "But," he held up a hand before the others could break in. "after we store the goods we're going to have to lay low so everyone meet back at the safe house. Okay?"

Everyone agreed and the raid had gone off without a hitch, they had stored the stolen crates in an abandoned water treatment plant and had gathered together at their lair, stocked up with supplies to last the time until the heat died down.

They had partied hard that night, still high on the thrill of the kill and the success of their snatch. Cases of beer and liquor had been consumed, someone had started an impromptu drunken rap record and he swore he had seen Darrius and Little D sleeping with matching lampshades on their heads before Kris had grabbed him by the hand and led him into the other room.

"Mmmm." She had moaned as he kissed her on the neck, working his way up until he reached her lips. Then she giggled. "You're drunk!"

He pulled back and smiled. "You're drunk tooo!" he slurred before they resumed their kiss and collapsed awkwardly on the bed. They continued like that for a while, until she broke their embrace and traced a single finger along the tattoos on his chest ending on the crescent moon emblazoned on the back of his neck.

"What now stud?" she asked, brown eyes suddenly clear of any evidence of intoxication.

Grinning stupidly he wrapped his arms around her, then with one hand brushed her blonde locks out of her face, obscuring her identical tattoo. "I can thinks of a few things." He tried to slip a hand up under her tank top and was mildly surprised when she pushed his arm away.

"I didn't mean right now. I meant what are we going to do after this whole things over with and we cash in the goods?"

He looked at her, cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I mean is this all it's ever going to be? We can't keep up this thing we have here forever, people have to move on."

"I-I-I,we'll always be here, move on from what?" he said, unable to raise his eyes above neck level. He made a pass again, but was shot down. "Hey!"

"Well? You didn't answer my question!?" she was angry now, but for all his worth he couldn't understand why. However in the most primitive parts of his mind, those not affected by the twenty-four pack he had consumed, he realized that nothing was going to happen unless he answered.

"How about we ta-talk about it tommoraaaw?" he suggested.

"Whatever." Kris answered back coldly, as if she had heard what she had expected.

However that didn't stop her from kissing back when he swung for a third time.

Next thing he knew he was waking up, hell of a hangover, to an empty bed and the sound of gunshots. He had rushed out; found a gaggle of red jumpsuited people storming breaking through the door and windows, guns drawn and firing.

Immediately his reflexes had kicked in and he had dove behind the sofa, grabbing his gun from where he had stashed it the night before. It was thing that he had seen Donnie's head disappear with a red flash, bits of skull and brain staining the couch where he had been sleeping peacefully just moments before.

Sensing that if he didn't move he'd be dead, he had grabbed the still groggy Wing and tried to get him outside, firing wildly over his shoulder as he made for the back door. However he failed and as he felt his fellow ganger slump in his grasp he had dropped the cooling corspe and ran like hell.

He had met Darrius outside on the street and they had been running ever since. It seemed though that every gang was on the streets, looking for war. They had spent the night in a local soup kitchen, but had been found out when they tried to move in the morning when they had run into the Reds again and led to their current situation.

Apparently the price that had been put out on their heads was a lot, even though he still couldn't figure out how Vince had found out their identities, they had killed all the guards and nobody had left the safe house that he was aware of. As loathe as he was to admit it, he found himself drawn to that second possibility more and more. But who? And more importantly why? While the Moonrunners had their occasionally spat the six of them had known each other for long as they had been alive, attending the same Ecclesiarchy run orphanage (well all of them except Little D) where they had first gotten together and decided to form up. That one of his lifelong friends would do something so…

Abruptly his dour thoughts were interrupted by a loud crash in the hallway, as if someone had been attempting to approach silently but had kicked over a pile of trash.

He got up from where he had been sitting and extinguished his Iho stick under his boot. Motioning for Darrius to take up a position behind him and to the right he approached the rotting door, listened for the distinctive noise of someone turning the knob and…

Ripping the door open he grabbed the figure, gun to the head and pushed them into the arms of a waiting Darrius, all the while surveying the corridor for any others. When he looked back however, he didn't find the expected bruiser struggling in Darrius' huge grip but instead a very disheveled looking Kris.

"Kris!" he said, putting his piece back in his waistband and tucking it back under his heavy jacket. He approached and wrapped her up in a warm embrace. "We thought you were dead!" he stroked her hair with his hand and spoke in a whisper. "I was worried about you so much!"

"It's okay I'm here now." She said back, smile gracing her pretty features.

"Hey baby," she turned at the sound of the Darrius' deep voice. "where have you been, Jax here has been cryin up a storm!"

"I got separated, when they came in through the door I managed to hide in the loft, until they left to chase you guys. I've been running ever since."

"Thank the Emperor!" Jax intoned. "When I woke up and you weren't there I thought that the Reds had gotten to you."

"Ha! Those idiots couldn't catch the clap! They didn't even bother looking in the loft; they were so intent on catching you guys. Say, where are Derek, Wing and Donnie?" she asked looking around for the missing Runners.

"They…" Darrius started before trailing off.

"They didn't make it." Jax finished.

Kris's face contorted into a mask of sadness. "Oh Darrius I'm so sorry!" she gave the big man a hug, wiping her tears on his jacket's pocket. Jax reached out and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Shh, it's okay. We're going to get back that fucking weasel Truloise. Hard."

The blonde woman pulled her head back and wiped the remaining tears from her eyes.

"You bet we will. Oh that reminds me, I stopped by the water treatment plant on my way over here. The crates are still here, but I don't know how much longer. What with all these piss headed thugs running around."

"Shit you're right! Damn, we gotta go get them. Darrius you come with me, Kris, stay here. Okay?"

"No I'm coming with you." The female ganger demanded.

"Kris don't…"

"Jax this is personal, we've have to get the guns in those crates back if we're going to be able to hit Truloise. Besides," she continued "I can handle myself, you know."

Jax considered this for a moment, looked to Darrius who just shrugged and back to Kris. "Okay, but let me and Big D do the heavy stuff sa-right?

She nodded and they set off, confident that this was the best

And yet Jax couldn't get the niggling sensation of impending doom out of his gut, no matter how hard he tried to squash it.


	4. A Walk in the Park

The Craftworld Kaelor's Hall of Seers dominated the city's skyline, its quartet of tower casting huge shadows across its landscape. Unlike the Aspect Temples which were located in the surrounding artificial wilderness that encircled the main settlement the housing and chambers for those who followed the path of the seer were found in the exact middle of it. It made sense on a physical level, the Seer Council after all was the political head of the Craftworld and the Farseer its guiding force, that it be equals in distance to all points of the artificial world was only practical. But it also made sense on a philosophical level. It had after all been the seers who had warned the Eldar people of the great fall and the imminent birth of the Chaos god Slaanesh. They had been the ones who had led the great exoduses to the home worlds, led their people to a way of simpler existence in penance for the great sin. It had been the Farseers who had organized the retreat of the surviving Craftworlds, fleeing from the Eye of Terror to the furthest wilderness of the galaxy. So the people beheld the way of the seer with great pride and gratitude, electing them as leaders of a new age.

As such were the exploits of the interpreters of fate lauded and placed in the center of the very being of Eldar Culture, so was the path of the warrior looked down upon with a sense of wary trepidation. To the common citizens of the Craftworld the Aspect Temples reflected to clearly the acceptance of bloodshed and uncontrolled passion that had led to the great fall in the first place. It was not spoken out loud of course, without the martial prowess of the warriors of Khaine, their race would have succumbed to oblivion long ago, but still there was an uneasy air that descended whenever one of the Temples was mentioned or one of its acolytes came into contact with the outside. So integrated it had become in the last ten thousand years that it was no surprise that the temples themselves were held at arm's length.

Bael didn't mind any of that. He was glad of the privacy of the wilderness, having to deal with people had never been his strong suit, he was much better at killing them.

"_Oh yes, much better!" _

Bael shook his head.

"By Khaine it feels like we've been walking for hours!" the now familiar voice of his young female companion jarred his thoughts and brought him back to the present. The transport that had brought the young Twisted Dove to the Dark Reapers Temple had left while she had went to fetch him, the driver had sped off, leaving the two to make their way to the city on foot. It wasn't a long distance, ten kilometers at the most, but it hadn't taken long for boredom to set in and the complaining to start. As they made their way through the rolling hills and forests, she had attempted to start a conversation, introducing herself as Ilyane Corda Norwitch, but he hadn't bothered to respond. Though this didn't seem to disturb her in the slightest; in fact it only seemed to spur her on.

She prattled on about the state of the Craftworld, the mysterious nature of the Farseers summons, the planned weather cycle, the Twisted Dove's training regimen, the best way to disable an armored opponent using only your hands, the current popular hairstyles in the city…

Bael tried to ignore her. It worked partially, concentrating on the path, scanning for threats, mentally reciting the mantras of Khaine over and over again. But eventually he just couldn't take anymore; he'd have to interject to find peace from her voice, even if that meant substituting his own.

"_Or we could just kill her…" _he ignored the random thought like he had the others, though his right hand did twitch towards his holstered splinter pistol he managed to regain control and find his center.

"…the whole Aspect is a nothing but good for nothing harlots, no respect for decency! If I told you half the things I've heard when someone brings up the Banshees, well let's just say you'd have a hard time gett…"

"How old are you?" he interrupted, already appreciating the respite his interjection created.

"This winter season I will be entering into my nineteenth year."

Bael hid his surprise, but inside he almost keeled over with shock.

'Eighteen! There were not one hundred children born to the Craftworld Varanthain the last fifty years, yet he had to have the luck to be paired up with one of them!' he moaned, the reason for the other's oddities now made apparent. In terms of Eldar years, she was still a teenager and from what little Madeochen could remember of his youth, it wasn't exactly a stable time in life.

"Well what about you?" she asked "I mean you can't be an ancient, not with all that color in your hair."

Bael smiled, he had always been very vain about his appearance and one of the few ways to get through to him was to offer up compliments. Of course since he was still wearing his helmet it didn't matter one way or the other.

"One hundred and five." He offered, taking comfort in the sight of the city's gates coming into view in the distance. Soon they would be at the Hall of Seers and he would part with this annoying flea brained imbecile and sort out this business with the Farseer and return back to the Temple. He already wasn't pleased with the current state of things; the interruption of his daily schedule was unwarranted and unwanted to say the least. Hours that could have been spent training his body to perfection was instead being wasted on this petty quest.

"Finally! I was beginning to think we'd never get out of this blasted forest!" Ilyane exclaimed as they stepped out of the forest eaves and into the bright sunlit plains that surrounded the city. Or rather the artificial sunlit plains; with the artificial sun that lit the interior of the Craftworld blazing hotly overhead working to provide the UV radiation and light energy needed to keep the flora of the gigantic space station alive and healthy. Actually a gigantic ball of contained plasma it kept regular twelve hour daylight cycles which along with the artificial weather generation system and holographic phase screen generated distant horizons gave the illusion of occupying a natural world. It was truly a testament to the superior technological and intellectual prowess that all Eldar were heir too.

"Ooo If I find that damned Serpent driver I swear I'm going to kill him!" Ilyane continued as they approached the giant engraved wraith bone gates, now standing open that marked the end of the country side and the city proper. To punctuate her point the fiery haired Aspect warrior threw a spinning kick that unfortunately landed her in an ankle deep pothole full of mud.

'Well most of them anyways.' Bael mentally sneered as the young woman shakily pulled herself to her feet where she had fallen and attempted to wipe the mud from her formerly spotless white leg plates. Ignoring her grumbled cursing he made his way past her and towards the now visible palace spires ahead.

…

"Something's not right." Jax whispered, holding up a hand to halt the _group_ behind him. They were currently inside one of the abandoned water treatment plants entrance passages, intent on retrieving the stolen weapon crates. The building itself was a huge sprawling complex, a veritable maze of rusting pipes, filters and holding tanks, perfect for hiding out for a couple of days. Or launching the perfect ambush; indeed taking a glimpse at the darkened side corridors and various dead ends it seemed as if you could hide an entire army in the crowded confines of the decaying complex.

It had been that exact reason that Jax had originally chosen the plant as storehouse, its byzantine construction would confuse would be looters and discourage casual inspection. Now however he was regretting his choice, there was something definitely different about the place since they were here last. Something that was definitely not right.

Then with a snap of realization he figured out what it was that had him on edge, but Darrius beat him to the punch.

"You're right. It's too quiet man. I mean something gots the rats and birds scared something bad." The big black man spoke in a whisper.

That was it. Last time they had been here stashing the goods they had had to speak up to be heard above the loud squeaking and chirping of the rats and various species of cave sparrow that had infested the structure. Now however instead of speaking up they had to hush their voices, so devoid of background noise the old structure was.

"Well then we'd better hurry up and get our shit before whatever it is that scared the animals find us!" Kris interjected, obviously impatient with the time they were wasting talking about it.

"You're right, but I don't have to like it; smells like an ambush. Kris get behind D and provide cover if we get stuck in something."

"Sure."

"Okay, Big D let's get this party started." With that said he retrieved the his auto pistol from its place in the small of his back and reached back to his pocket and wrapped his hand around the round object stashed there. He had picked it up back at the safe-house, hidden in a hollowed out section of the room's mattress among extra magazines, piles of credits and no fewer than two dozen knives. Approaching the door to the room where they had stashed the crates, Jax eased over to the door and placed his hand on the handle. Sliding it open he let Darrius sweep by him before following him, pistol at the ready.

There they were just as Kris had said, twenty Aquila marked crates piled ten by two high, PDF transit papers still stapled loosely to the side. Lowering his weapon he made his way over to where his friend was standing and smacked him on the back.

"Well that was easy; I guess we got the spooks for nothing. Now let's grab a crate and we'll bring…"

"Yah that was easy, you dumb fraks came right to us." A deep voice sounded from the doorway they had just left. A doorway now filled with a trio of red jumpsuit clad figures. In the center stood a bear of a man, shaven head covered with a flame design tattoo and wielding a sawed-off shotgun. To his left stood a smaller man holding a struggling Kris, knife to her throat, while to his right stood a man with his jumpsuit's hood pulled up over his head, obscuring his face in its deep shadows. He didn't appear to be armed.

"Jax Bishop, or should I say Jax Dumbshit." The tattooed one gloated. "Didn't fink you were stupid 'nough to stick around after that little stunt you pulled, but I'ze guess I shoulda known better! Anyone dumb enough to mess with Vince Truloise has probably got himself a suicide wish also!" he laughed and the man holding Kris echoed his amusement.

"Jax, I'm sorry! They came up behind me and jumped me before I could say anything." Kris pleaded and Jax held up a hand to calm her.

"It's okay Kris, I don't blame you." He turned his gaze back to the man in the center of the group. "I wouldn't hear shit coming up behind me either, only by the smell. Red Sun, you're being mighty brave coming here with only two goons to back you up. So how I figure it, either you've gone soft in the head, or your just sick of livin' and hoped I could help you out."

The other gang leader started for a second, but then calmed down, a smile returning to his face.

"Ahaha, you know how much Vince is asking for your purty hide? Twenty thousand credits! Plus fifteen hundred for any one of your little butt buddies. So I figure since we've gotten forty five hundred, well why stop there? Course I might just have to have some fun with this one first," he reached over and gripped Kris' chin, forcing her to look up at him. "you know as a down payment." his speech devolved into a series of sniggers that the man on his left once again copied. The man on the right still hadn't moved a muscle or spoken.

"If you so much as touch her…"

"You'll what? Get angry and hiss at me? Believe me Jax Bishop, what makes you think we came alone?"

"Uh J, we got company." He heard Darrius and didn't have to guess what his statement meant. Out of the corner of his eye he could see red tinged shapes seemingly pop from out of the shadows, forming a rough semicircular around them and the door. Armed with various killing implements, ranging from automatic pistols to spiked clubs, the remaining Reds stepped into the light, baring teeth and chomping at the bit. Jax didn't pay them any mind.

"Hey D," he said, reaching into his pocket and palming the object he had stored there. "I think it's time to get up and over them." He nodded towards the stack of crates and pulled the object out.

"Yeah whatever you say J."

Red Sun looked from Jax to Darrius, and then laughed. "The only thing you'll be getting over is bein' live. Get em!" With a wave of his gun he motioned the gang forward.

Sensing the moment was right; Jax pulled the pin out of the fragmentation grenade and threw it directly behind him, before following Darrius over the stack of crates, vaulting over it like an athlete at the Scholam.

The grenade detonated with a hollow thump, sending thousands of metal pellets flying through the air at supersonic speed. The effect of metal on flesh was a grisly thing to behold and nearly half of the attacking gangers were reduced to bloody ribbons. The rest reeled back, blinded by the flash and concussed by the explosion. To Jax's ire however when the explosion reached the trio in the doorway, it was repelled as if by some sort of invisible shield. The source was soon made apparent as the previously unmoving right-hand man had dropped his hood and revealed a set of stunted horns protruding from his scalp and a pair of blood red eyes. Gesturing with one hand, the mutant made a fist and a bolt of lightning reached out from the clutched hand, crashing into the crates with a clap and blowing a few into pieces.

"They've got themselves a fucking psyker!" Darrius yelled to Jax over the now resuming clatter of gunfire as the Reds recovered themselves and began to advance on the two's cover. A boom of the shotgun confirmed Red Sun's survival and Darrius ducked below the crates again as another bolt of psychic energy shot overhead. "I guess that explains the lack of vermin, other than the ones out now at least!"

"Well they may have a psyker, but he has lousy aim!" Jax laughed as he picked up a now freed las-rifle from the confines of the shattered case and tossed it to Darrius who caught it one handed, before quickly searching through the case for another undamaged gun. Meanwhile his friend had flipped the fire selector to full auto and was in the process of scything down the charging gang members like so many blades of wheat. In the next instant Jax finally managed to find an undamaged gun and added his weight of fire to Darrius'. Kneecaps exploded and skulls were excavated as super concentrated light beams sliced through the targets.

Soon most of the red dressed figures were lying still on the ground, though a few were still twitching in the throes of death. The psyker lay face down in a pool of purple blood, psychic shield unable to stand up to the combined fire of two military grade las-rifles. Next to him lay the half headless corpse of the Reds leader, surprise still etched on the ruined remains of his face, and next to him…

"Shit! Kris!" Jax exclaimed as he vaunted over the smoking remains of the now half ruined crates and sprinted over to the doorway. Turning over the body of Red Sun's knife wielding accomplice, he was relieved to find Kris underneath and apparently unharmed. Helping his friend to her feet, he expressed his relief.

"By the Emperor Kris! For a second there you had me worried, getting caught like that! But I should of known you'd be smart enough to fall with a man on top of you."

"Hey, just because a girl knows how to use a man you types go sayin' she's a whore." Kris smiled back and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Jax smiled back and turned to call out to Darrius, when he found the big man already beside him, las-gun held over his shoulder in a casual manner.

"Those crates are a complete loss, seems that psyker made a mess of the ones in the front, and somehow one of the power packs overheated, fried the whole lot. Just lucky we didn't get fried along with em."

"Yeah I guess so, come on then let's get going!" with that Jax led his intrepid band of heroes down the hallway back towards the plant's entrance. Along the way he tried to ignore the argument brewing between his two friends and the still perturbed sense of unease that had made a home in his stomach. He didn't know why but even after defeating the Reds it still lingered. Sure there would be other gangs looking to get in on the reward, but the one's that had been hounding them since the beginning had always been one step ahead of them were now cooling back in the plant. Of course that still didn't explain how they knew about their movements in the first place…

"You should've stayed behind Kris; it was too big of a distraction to me an Jax see?" Darrius was saying, his deep voice pinched with concern.

Kris' voice was anything but instead she seemed amused with the argument.

"And leave me to worry? Without knowing whether you were dead or not? How could you be so cruel Big D!" she laughed and Jax smiled as well, trying to imagine Kris as the worrying type. He couldn't, she had always been so carefree and wild, except…

Like a thunderbolt the realization slammed home into Jax's skull, throwing out all the frivolous thoughts that he had been having moments before. Now he was concentrated on a recovered memory, until recently submerged below mire of drunken haze. Of someone expressing their discontent with the situation, of sneaking off and leaving him in the middle of the night. But that wasn't the clinching aspect of the whole thing. He had just realized what had had him wriggling in its wrongness ever since he had heard it hours ago. He was faced with the horrible truth that bared its face at him, like a bloated corpse coming to the top of a storm drain after a month of sitting on bottom.

So set in turmoil was his mind that he didn't realize he had stopped moving until the bump of something heavy into his back spurred him into the present, though he would of rather in this case stayed in the past.

"Jax is something wrong?" That voice, that voice. He knew at that moment he'd never fully trust anyone again, that part of him would die this day, along with the owner of that voice.

"Why?" he whispered, not turning around because he knew that when he did, there'd be no going back.

"What are you talking about J?" Darrius asked placing a hand on Jax's shoulder. "Are alright man?"

Jax continued like he hadn't heard his friend. "Why'd you do it Kris?"

Kris couldn't help but let out a small gasp but quickly took control.

"What are you talking about J?"

Jax turned to face her, keeping his face blank though all he really wanted to do was cry, to scream or shout.

"Why did you give us up to the Reds?" he blankly stated.

The blonde woman made to defend herself further, but was interrupted as she was sent to the floor by Jax's heavy handed slap.

"Whoa, J what the hell are you doing?!" Darrius asked in bewilderment putting a now restraining hand on Jax's shoulder trying to pull him away from the downed Moonrunner. Jax brushed the hand away.

"When you asked what happened to the others, you would have known had you really been up in the loft, you would of seen their bodies when you came down. There are no exits from the second story. So why'd you do it. Why did you murder them Kris? Was it for the money? Did we do something to deserve this?"

Kris' eyes widened and he could tell she knew the game was up. So instead tears formed in her eyes, crocodile like in their reptilian conservation of energy.

"I-I just wanted out, I didn't know they were going to kill them and go after the reward too. They promised they'd spare us, in return for the crates. I had dreams Jax! I wanted to be something, to get out of this slum hole and start a new life." She spoke rather convincingly mixing tears with a tone that demanded pity, something she had used on him on more than one occasion to get what she wanted.

"And did Derek and the rest have to die for those dreams to come through? Throne woman he was only fourteen."Jax's voice had still not broken above a whisper. "You couldn't have just waited a month for things to die down and us to move the guns? Why Kris? We were family; you don't do that kind of thing to family."

"I'm so sorry Jax, I…" she never finished her sentence, instead drawing the pistol her hand had been inching for all along. In a blur she had it out, aimed and cocked. Years of experience with the weapon let her bring it out in a fraction of a second, but she was still slower than the speed that Jax's anger lent him.

In a lighting kick he knocked her hand to the side, sending the gun flying, the bullet merely grazing his neck where it would have otherwise killed him. Following up with his other foot, he launched a steel toe clad boot straight into her face, knocking her head against the wall with a sickening crunch. Crouching down next to her, he drew a sinister looking knife from his boot sheath and propped her back up against the wall.

"I loved you Kris, but I guess you wouldn't understand that." His voice was bitter with remorse but she didn't reply and he lifted the knife up to her throat, poised to strike. "Goodbye."

A soft hand placed on his made him hold back, as Kris' head raised and she regarded him with her pretty face, blood staining her once golden hair a brutal crimson.

"I love you too," Her lips moved with the faintest of whispers, party only to Jax's ears.

Jax's face remained stonily blank and he hesitated for the briefest moment, even as his hand lunged forward. Even as he plunged the knife again and again into the woman in front of him; the knife carving creamy flesh with reckless abandon. When he finally finished, his clothes were stained with blood and his hands were numb as he sagged back against the passageways concrete wall. The knife clattered from nerveless fingers and he sagged his head down to his chest, weary to the point of exhaustion.

The first of the fat teardrops began to fall, the whole ordeals emotional weight finally catching up with him at once. He shuddered, silent but undoubtedly weeping, letting his whole body wrack with the sobs of an unjust world. And he knew it to be one. Of course life had never been pretty; living in one of the most brutal environs known to man wasn't exactly an evil life. But this was different. It was as if fate had just decided to short change his entire life up in anticipation of this event. No one deserved this, yet here he was at the end of rope, reward still over his head and covered in the blood of the friend he had just brutally executed, the woman whom had just confessed her continuing love to him at the end of her treacherous life. It was horrible.

Darrius stood next to his friend, a silent unmovable shadow across the crying mans path. He knew better than to get involved with Jax right now. This was something he had to do alone, just as Darrius had to do as well. In his mind he had already avenged the dead, killing their killers and the one responsible for their original betrayal was taken care of as well. Kris, Emperor damn it! He still couldn't believe she had been capable of something so…wrong.

After a brief spell, Jax got wearily to his feet and wiped the remainder of tears from his eyes. Turning to his friend he regarded him with a look that made Darrius' heart heavy. The look of an empty man, as if he had lost his soul through those tears, the vitality that had been possessing of him a few minutes before had leaked out of his tear ducts, around his nose and dripped onto the lifeless earth below. Without a word he rose to his feet and walked down the tunnel, emerging back into the Underhive and making his way down the street. As they walked down the narrow corridors and side passages on their way back to the apartment safe house, neither man spoke a word. It was only when they were back safely in the abandoned hab-block with the door shut and bolted behind them that Jax finally broke the silence.

"Darrius, I have to get out of this place man. I…I just have to go."

"Yeah man, it's cool. We'll just lie low for a few days, wait till this whole thing blows over, then we'll get right back to boppin'. Recruit some new blood, pull some small shit…" he stopped as Jax held up his hand.

"No. I'm done with this whole thing. D, Kris wasn't the only one to want to quit this life. I was going to wait till after the big score, but with all this stuff happening…I was going to give up the Moonrunners to you man. After you came back. I mean you're older than me and you've been with the group longer." He talked quickly as if explaining something to himself as well.

"And what are you gonna do then huh?? Darrius demanded "Just flush all your life down the toilet and start argi-podding?"

"I was thinking of joining the Navy. You know I've never been off of a Tolis and now it's not like I have anything holding me back…"

"The Navy?! What the fuck man? Why not the PDF or the guard?" Darrius' stint in the PDF had not ended well, kicked out for getting in fights one too many times, he didn't want to see his friend end up as some Private No-jones. But the Navy? You'd spend years at a time in a cramped crew compartment on some Emperor forsaken battleship, never knowing when or where you'd cash it in and when you finally saved up enough or served out your contract, you'd be dumped on some backwater planet with instructions to start a colony or some such rubbish. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"It doesn't matter man, I think I don't have a choice, I have to get out of here one way or the other and at least with the Navy I'll be able to do some things I'd never be able to do otherwise."

"Like earn a honest living?" he was relieved when this brought a smile to his friends face, no matter how brief.

"Yeah, but it doesn't matter anyways. Tomorrow I'm going down to the docks and turning myself in for conscription."

The Docks was the district that surrounded the principle spaceport in Avalon Prime and acted as the primary nexus between the ground and the orbiting space docks. It was a busy terminal; chalk full of merchants peddling their wares, warehouses both private and Administratum owned, private shuttle runners looking to make a few credits and was the primary recruitment center for both the Planetary Defense Force and the Imperial Navy.

Darrius could see that Jax had his mind made up and knew from experience how trying to persuade him otherwise would only make things worse. However he didn't want to let this thing go, Jax was his only remaining friend left in the Underhive, the few friends he had made in the guard were stationed in different hives and no longer expressly concerned with maintaining their friendships.

'And it's not like I'm going to be able to survive here with a bounty on my head without any backup anyways.' He mentally added. So with that decided he made his decision.

"Okay tomorrow we'll go down to the space port and we'll see what happens." He said.

"What do you mean we?" Jax asked suddenly suspicious. Darrius looked him in the eye and spoke in the sternest sounding voice he could muster.

"Well you can't expect me to just let you go off and make a fool of yourself. Anyways a one man gang ain't no gang at all, if you catch my drift."

Jax took one look at his friend and then tried his best to encompass the giant man in a hug.  
"Ha-ha D! I knew you wouldn't let me down."

"Yeah, yeah watch it with all this chumpiness or you're going to give me the wrong impression." He glanced down to his hand and saw a splotch of red there. "Yo, you're like bleeding man!"

Jax reached up to his neck and pulled back his hand, stained red with blood.

"Damn, must have reopened when your big clumsy ass tried to strangle me. Well that's another tattoo ruined." 'Damn that was one of my favorites too.'

"Hey, well at least it wasn't the one that matters." Darrius pointed out, tapping the back of his neck to illustrate his point.

"Yeah, though I don't think it'll matter much where we're goin'." Jax lowered himself down to the still soiled as ever mattress and placed his arm over his eyes. "See ya tomorrow D."

"Peace goon-bait." His friend called from where he was lying, pressed up against the wall with his jacket as a pillow. Jax wormed his way around the soggy divan, looking for a dry spot. Satisfied with what he considered the best option he voiced his opinion on the matter.

"Shut-up."


	5. One Quest Begins

Farseer Melkith surveyed the trio of Aspect warriors before her with a cold detached eye. Seated on an elaborate wraith bone throne the venerable ancient looked every inch of the stately ruler she was. Piercing black eyes sat fixed between bony cheek bones, white hair pinned tightly behind her head in an elaborate headdress. Her clothes were of the finest silk, encrusted with precious stones and embroidered with golden thread. All the resources of the Craftworld were hers to command, the Aspect Temples Exarchs answered to her suggestions, the civilian militia would be mobilized on her word. Or to be more accurately her predictions would. Being the Farseer meant that she was the most gifted seer in the whole space stations population, able to interpret and read the signs that lent credence to her commands.

Ti'el Sorrowsin noticed all of this and couldn't help but feel intimidated. The young Twisted Dove fiddled with the pommel of her power sword until the cold gazed passed her by and she let out a sigh of relief. The four of them had been standing like this for the last half an hour and in that time the atmosphere in the throne room hadn't changed in the least. Ti'el spared a glance at the warrior to her left and tried to emulate the others graceful nonchalant posture. Tried and failed. Eliza Windrunner was her senior by at least two hundred years and the Howling Banshee showed every decade of it. On her worn, polished armor she wore tens of dozens of campaign runes sparkled impressively in the chambers artificial torches and her stern face showed no sign of unease with her surroundings.

Ti'el was jealous. Her armor was spotless, but it wasn't as much from careful maintenance as it was from lack of use. Her single campaign rune emblazoned on her shoulder plate was the only identifying mark on her armors pristine surface. And even that shouldn't rightfully be hers; her commanders had never counted on that Druchii pirate ship to ambush her transport. They had repelled the boarders with minimal losses; she hadn't even killed a single Dark Eldar scum. However the action had been considered major enough to warrant a commendation and her sisters and her had received a rune to commemorate the victory. Ilyane had been with her, but at least her feisty friend had bagged one of the raiders. Speaking of her friend, where was she? They had both received their summons at the same time, however the other Dove had taken a separate Wave Serpent as she had been tasked with delivering the Farseers message to some Dark Reaper. She should have been here by now, by Wave Serpent the trip would only have taken a few minutes. She hoped her friend was all right, the Reapers were renowned for their almost callous disregard for life and their obsession with death and destruction made the looked down upon by Eldar society, more so than usual for a Temple. Even the other Aspects were wary around the Reapers of Khaine and generally avoided them when possible. Given Ilyane's naturally abrasive personality, she would not go along well with the Dark Reaper's rather somber character. However her worrying proved itself all for naught as after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence the clicking of armored heels on stone announced the arrival of Ilyane and her black armored companion.

'Speak of the devil.' Ti'el winced as she noticed the flashing eyes, furrowed brow of her red haired friend and the mud stains on her leggings. This was not going to be pretty.

She wasn't the only one to have noticed the final warriors arrivals, Farseer Melkith uncrossed her legs and rose to her feet. "Now that all parties have arrived, I am sure that you all are interested as to why you have been called to this special session." She spared an indifferent look for each of the assembled party, pausing momentarily as she lingered on Ilyane, letting a smile briefly play on her face before she slipped back on her mask and moved on to Ti'el and the rest.

'What in Asuls name was that?' the Twisted Dove wondered, did the Farseer know her friend from somewhere. That would be strange, as Ilyane had never disclosed anything hinting at that fact. She threw her friend a look as if to ask "What was that about?" to which her friend replied with a shrug.

"Why have you called us here most venerable Farseer?" Eliza Windrunner asked and Ti'el was even more impressed by the older Banshee. The gall the woman must be possessing of to address the leader of the Craftworld so!

"It will all be explained in due time Eliza," apparently the two knew each other from somewhere, that would explain the familiarity "I assure you." The woman on the dais turned to address the tall Dark Reaper that had arrived with Ilyane. "Warrior Madeochen, how pleasant of you to join us." Her tone had taken a cold edge. It was readily apparent to Ti'el that there was bad blood between the two, though she knew nothing of the cause of it.

For his part, the masked warrior stood his ground, not bothering to take off his feature concealing helmet or show any indication of unease. "The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." His sonorous voice issued from his helmet as an electronic buzz, courtesy of his armors external voice speaker. It had to be; otherwise she would have sworn his voice held a succinct tinge of sarcasm.

"I'm sure." Eliza shot from where she had been standing, causing the black clad figure to turn slightly in her direction. Ti'el noticed that her voice also possessed a hard edge to it and wondered what this Bael had done to deserve that kind of treatment from two such distinguished women. The Farseer however seemed to ignore the little exchange and gestured for everyone to take a seat at the table below the foot of the dais.

Taking her place next to Ilyane, she spared her friend another questioning look to which in reply she mouthed the word "later." Ti'el didn't press it, instead taking her seat, setting her helmet on her lap in order to keep it out of the way.

Seeing that everyone had settled down the Farseer retook her seat.

"I thank you all for responding forthwith to the summons." She began "I have gathered you all here today for a matter of the greatest importance. Three nights ago I was gifted with a vision of the most unsettling nature. I saw the galaxy destroyed in the fires of a war unlike any seen since the time of the human civil war, the existing factions burning themselves out until there was nothing left to give. Out of the confusion a single victor emerged, the forces of Chaos. They alone grew more powerful with the widespread destruction, gaining power with every ounce of bloodshed, perversion and every act of cruelty. Powerful enough to rip open wide the Eye of Terror, spreading its malign influence over half of known space. In its wake came the tides of corruption; the rampant spread of mutation and demonic influence.

"The Imperium may have been the first to fall, but it was far from the last. The burgeoning Tau Empire, whose ability to co-exist and technological prowess were most promising for future relations were unable to cope with the full onslaught of the fell powers. Hampered by the lack of psykers in their population made for an inadequate defense against the wicked sorceries the four gods of Chaos unleashed upon their domain."

"The Craftworlds were broken, shattered as they tried to flee the grinding approach of the chaotic front. Only the Craftworlds on the outer edge of the galactic rim survived the purge and as the Exodite worlds fell one by one they were forced to flee this sector of space for the great universal void, taking their chances with the emptiness of space against the inevitable defeat by the great enemy. A few Craftworlds remained however and combined with the remaining mon-keigh forces, remnants of the human and Tau empires, for one last attempt to turn back the tide. The Phoenix Lords would lead the battle and for years the great taskforce would hold, yet in the end they were pushed to the end of the eastern edge of the galaxy and were annihilated."

"Yet in their victory Chaos sealed their own fate. Working tirelessly to coalesce the materium with the immaterium they managed to upset the universal balance between the warp and real space. The void would be the result, cold, empty and lifeless. There the vision ended, faded into the darkness upon my waking breath."

The mention of the end times brought a palpable chill to the air in the throne room. Ti'el didn't like talking about religion, especially when it was talked about as a certainty. It was a hotly debated topic among the _People_ as to what exactly the prophecies of the Asuryata meant, whether it spelled the doom of Eldar society and the rending of the Universe or the defeat of the dark forces and the renewal of their dying way of life.

"You got all _that_ from a vision?" Ti'el winced at the open faced bluntness of her fiend as Ilyane expressed her opinion on the matter. However the Farseer didn't seem as put out as one might have imagined, instead she merely inclined her head.

"It was a very elaborate vision with lots of detail and I have spent the last two days and nights deciphering the meaning of its content. Of course as with all things some parts will be obscured, hidden from even the most perceptive of sights. Darkened to the point of ambiguity, they become muddled and uncertain. However this vision was surprisingly clear and I saw it as I described."

"So I guess the more important question is what this has to do with the five of us? Wouldn't this kind of thing be better revealed at a council of war or shared with the other Craftworlds? " Eliza asked, voice calm and detached as if this kind of thing happened to her every day.

"Yeah, I mean what are we supposed to do? Fight off the hordes of the great enemy with nothing but our wits and good looks?" Ilyane's voice was dripping with sarcasm and not for the first time Ti'el was embarrassed by her friend's actions. Rubbing her slender neck with her hand she prayed to whatever gods that happened to be listening that Ilyane would guard her tongue in the future. She stopped half way, realizing the futility of that wish.

"No, I expect you to act like an Aspect Warrior of Khaine should, honoring your elders and paying attention to those rightfully placed above you." Farseer Melkith coolly stated favoring the red haired Dove with a scathing look. Ilyane for her credit looked for once truly abashed and held her tongue.

"That still does not answer the lady's question most esteemed Farseer," the only member of the party who had not spoken so far questioned in a haughty yet regal tone. Ti'el spared him only a glance; for she had already spent some considerable time admiring him from across the room while she waited. Tall and handsome he cut a dashing figure in his heavy armored plate and his tall crenulated horse hair helmet named him a Dire Avenger. They had met outside the doors to the throne room and he had introduced himself as Jain Seachran and she had told him hers, but they hadn't had any chance to talk since then.

The woman seated on the throne didn't speak for a while, just sat there with her head resting on interlaced gloved fingers. Finally she retracted her hands and once again rested them in her lap.

"That night I after the vision had ended and I had woken, I attempted to put myself in a psychic trance, to further determine the nature of my vision. What I was granted instead was a glimpse of another possibility, a secondary divergent path. In this future there is hope for the Eldar and the Universe in whole; all is not lost at the end. In the completion of this path I was given a list of names, of those individuals that could help secure that final hope. It was you. Your names made up that list I received while under the influence of the warp. Therefore I have gathered you here to undertake that task which proved to be the divergent point in the two possibilities."

The room's occupants started shouting questions all at once, all except Bael who merely remained sitting at the table, as silent and standoffish as ever.

"Silence!" Farseer Melkith shouted, resending the command as a telepathic message as well as a verbal one. Confronted with an assault on their minds as well as their ears the formerly noisy warriors instantly fell quiet. Seeing her efforts had had the desired effect the Farseer attempted to salvage the situation. "I will answer your questions one at a time, if I can. The future is uncertain at best, impossible to predict at worst and I know only what I have seen."

Ilyane was the first to speak up, nearly bursting with excitement at the prospect of such a glorious escapade. Her words came out in a frantic stream.

"Farseer what do you mean exactly? What do we have to do? Where do we have to go? Why only us and not others? When do we have to le…?"

The Farseer held up her hand and silenced her stream of questions.

"Slow down girl, you speak as though you'll forget what you're asking if you don't get it out fast enough."

Ilyane colored yet again, yet this time Ti'el would bet it was in anger, not shame. The Farseer continued.

"But to answer your questions; the path of divergence stems from the location and retrieval of a certain Ancestral artifact that can be found far beyond the eastern galactic rim, but first you must travel to the planet the mon-keigh have named Peleghast by the web way. There you will wait in the town of Dry Gulch for the arrival of your transport. I will provide maps to point you in the right direction once you leave the web gate. Furthermore you will obey Warrior Windrunner as if she were your Exarch. I have placed her in charge of this expedition for her experience and abilities and you will do well to respect both. To answer your third question, the second vision specifically showed you five had specific roles to play in the completion of the mission. In addition I have no intentions of allowing this to reach the general population. That knowledge would do none of them any good, only serve to cause panic and distress where none is needed and frankly a large military strike is not required for your task to be completed."

She finished and Jain held up his hand in question.

"Why can't we just take a ship from here? I mean why do we have to travel to some backwater barbarian held planet to meet up with one of our ships?" he shook his dark brown hair "It doesn't make any sense."

"Don't concern yourself with the why Warrior Seachran, it is not your duty to know. Instead pay heed to what your Farseer commands, it might save your life some day." Eliza interjected, regarding the Dire Avenger with a cool gaze. The older woman had her arms crossed on her chest and for a moment Ti'el was reminded of her late mother.

"I'm just asking! You would think we'd be informed as to why were being sent out without any prior knowledge and risking our lives for some half chance that what we might be able to accomplish just might save the galaxy?"

"Not if the Farseer wills it you won't." The Dark Reaper only now spoke and Ti'el would later swear to Ilyane that she still heard traces of sarcasm and anger in the giant's synthesized voice.

"Thank you, Warrior Madeochen. Your input is appreciated as always." Farseer Melkith deadpanned. Eliza contented herself with glaring at him from across the table where she was seated.

Interest peaked Ti'el spared a glance at the Dark Reaper, but he remained hidden behind his skull helmet and was impassive and unreadable as ever. However he must have caught her looking because slowly his head swiveled to face her and she found herself locked in place as the two bottomless pits of the skull mask burned themselves into her mind. She would of most certainly jumped and squeaked if she hadn't done something to distract herself, so she asked the first question that entered her mind.

"When do we leave?" she blurted out and it wasn't until she realized that Ilyane and Jain were staring at her with shocked expressions on their faces that she realized what she had done. It was her turn to turn red in the face and she admonished herself for making fun of her friend earlier.

The Farseer tapped her fingers against the arm piece of the throne, irritated at being interrupted in such a rude manner.

"Since it seems to be very important to you, I'll let you know that you're leaving two days from now. You will meet at the web way portal at the eighth chime. Be sure to bring your full war gear pack and supplies to last at least three days. I don't expect you'll go that long without provisions but it is better to be safe, than to suffer for your lack of vision. One last thing, I am not making this an order. Anyone who wants to stay behind is welcome to. No shame will come to you." She gave each one of the band another considering look" That is all, you are dismissed."

Ti'el sighed in relief, though her head was still spinning with the events of the past twenty minutes. Getting up she was about to turn to Ilyane and ask her about the mud when the Farseer called out.

"Ilyane Norwitch, can I speak with you for a second?" Ilyane's head shot around and a look of pure terror flashed over her face. Getting up slowly the redhead shuffled over to the Farseer like a child caught stealing candy. Ti'el giggled at the thought as she walked over to the chamber's entrance and waited for her friend to catch up.

From what she could see the Farseer wasn't mad at Ilyane, to the contrary she seemed to be rather cheerful. As for her friend, Ilyane eventually managed to quit shaking once she realized she wasn't in trouble and instead took on her usual puffed-up air. This didn't last long however as a look of confusion soon took its place. Then with a final wave the Farseer gestured for her to go and Ilyane walked over to where Ti'el was waiting, a confused look written all over her face.

"What was that about?" Ti'el whispered as her friend reached her position and they walked out of the throne room.

"What? Oh, nothing. She just told me some things." her friend replied, unusually quiet and demure.

"What kind of things?"

"Just some things! By Khaine, just drop it already!" her friend's usual anger returned and Ti'el calmed down a little bit. After all it was a good sign.

They continued walking for a while, emerging out of the palace onto the city streets.

"So what do you think about all this?" Ti'el asked, curious to see if her friend's reactions were the same as her own.

"What?" Apparently her friend had better things to do than listen to her.

Irritated she repeated herself "I said, what's your opinion on the Farseer's mission?"

"I think it's a load of crap! If you want my opinion on the matter, she was unable to read the signs in that vision she had, so she's just reaching for straws. Trying to save her hide and reputation see? So she gets a bunch of unknown's to go on some fool's quest for some mysterious artifact that will somehow magically fix whatever problems she thinks she's seen. Doesn't want to cause a panic? More like if she's wrong she going to be able to cover her tracks."

"You really think all of that?" Ti'el asked, wary about talking so concerning the Farseer.

"Of course I do, otherwise I wouldn't have said it. No, it's no wonder the old crone hasn't been ever been able to deal with those bastard ceiba-ny-shak Saim-Hanns. She doesn't have the honor to hold them to an agreement."

"So you're not going to come then?"

"Of course I'm going to come! You think I'd let that old fool scare me?! I'll show her!"

Ti'el was shocked; she had never heard Ilyane talk the way she did, it was almost as if she was angry at herself as much as the Farseer. She knew better than to ask her what was the matter however. That kind of thing always ended badly and furthermore she trusted Ilyane to work it out on her own. However she couldn't let go of a golden opportunity to rile her up.

"Hmm, okay, so what was up with you being late this morning?"

"Wha? Oh, yeah. My stupid driver left me at the Reaper's barracks, took off when I wasn't looking. We had to walk the entire way! "

"Is that so? You know when I saw that mud on your leggings I thought for that hunk Bale had taken you for a tumble."

"Argh! Shutup!" Ti'el laughed and dodged the punch her friend threw at her. "You'd better watch your flapping tongue, that's how rumors get started!"

"Whatever you say, I just hope you at least learned his name before you jumped him." She stepped to the right, dodged a clumsily thrown kick and took off running. She had always been a faster runner than Ilyane and she'd mostly likely reach the motor pool well ahead of her. However looking back and seeing the streaking fireball hurling after her, she refigured her chances and picked up the pace. It would not be in her interest to be near her volatile friend when she went supernova and being caught in the back of Wave Serpent with her would just be suicide. Such thoughts spurred her on as she sprinted down the street, red haired time bomb in hot pursuit.

…

"Did you have to lie to them Ceran?" Eliza asked, setting down her glass of wine on the alder wood end table. The Farseer and she were seated in one of the Palaces many sitting rooms, sipping wine and talking like old friends. Which they were. They had first met each other one hundred and seventy five years ago when the Howling Banshee had been tasked with the protection of the then junior Seer Council member Ceran Melkith. The two had quickly become fast friends and when Ceran had become Farseer she had appointed Eliza her head of security.

"It was necessary. I doubt they would of agreed so readily if they knew the truth." The Farseer had changed out of her ornamental robes into something a little more utilitarian green dress.

"So has the Imperial servant gotten back to you?" Eliza asked picking up her glass again and taking a swig.

"Yes, he estimated he'll be at the pickup point within two weeks a month at the most. He'll be expecting the package when he arrives."

"I'll tell you again I do not like this, traveling with the mon-keigh. I don't trust them."

The Farseer sighed and gestured for her friend to settle down.

"Eliza you know as well as I do why we need the humans help. There is no web way portal where you are going and our starships do not have warp drives."

"You misunderstand me. I said I do not like it, not that I don't understand why. It's just the humans have never worked with us willingly, unless they were working in their own interest."

"Yes that is usually the case, but this will be for the good of the entire galaxy, including the short sighted humans, whether or not they're able to comprehend that."

Eliza chuckled "Remind me again why you're not popular with the purists."

"Sophists" Ceran snorted "unable to realize the correct path, even if it's waved right under their noses."

"You know some would call you crazy." Eliza murmured into her wine, though more to herself than to Ceran.

"None the less I do what is necessary to repair the damage that the gods have dealt. This is the only way; all other paths lead to damnation."

"The same could be said about the path we embark on now." Eliza countered and the Farseer shrugged.

"Let me rephrase that; all other paths lead to _certain_ damnation."

"Fair enough, say changing the subject. How am I to recognize the Imperial agent's envoys? These humans, they all look alike to me." Eliza's contempt was clear, as was her opinion of the mon-keigh.

The Farseer tittered behind the back of her palm "I think young Ilyane will have the answer for that." Her eyes sparkled with amusement and Eliza felt incredibly tempted to ask what was so damn funny; however the other woman preempted her and held out an encrypted data slate. "This slate contains a topographical map of your insertion point as well as directional compass and tracking program that will bring you to Dry Gulch." Eliza took the slate and slid her finger across devices scanner to unlock it and began to skim through the various files and pictures contained within.

"It also contains information submitted by the Imperial Agent regarding the specifics of the pickup point, preset communication channels and the subordinates he'll be sending down to meet you."

Eliza opened up a picture file and took a good long look at her contacts. She immediately wished she hadn't.

"You've got to be kidding me." She raised her eyebrow in question. "Just what kind of Inquisitor is this?"

"I know. I didn't believe it when I first saw them either. Apparently he's a member of the _Xenos Hybris _and an extremely radical one at that."

"Ha-ha I'll say, you two would get on well together then."

"Perhaps, though I don't think he'll be into _older_ women." The two had a nice chuckle over this, before simultaneously picking up their wine glasses and taking large gulps. Daintily wiping her lips with her finger tips, Eliza once again took on a serious visage as their talk turned back to business.

"Ceran you know that I do not doubt your wisdom in these matters. I have witnessed firsthand your expertise and knowledge pay off in ways that have benefited this Craftworld and the People in ways I would have never been able to. But how can you take this risk? You know as well as I do what people say about him. Even if there's never been any proof…" she let the sentence die out, a fitting end considering what the conversation pertained to.

Ceran didn't say anything right away, she had known this moment was coming ever since she had first told Eliza of her vision a month ago and she had subsequently found out about the people involved.

"It was as the vision portrayed it Eliza, I have no control over destiny. Bael may be strange, but as you said yourself there is no proof to substantiate those foolish mutterings."

For decades there had been whisperings in certain circles that there was a half-breed in the Craftworld proper. People talked of a Dark Reaper Aspect warrior who had been found as a child on an Exodite world after a Druchii pirate raid. The sole survivor of the settlement, he had been found by a Varanthan Guardian squad and had been taken back to the Craftworld to be raised by the city orphanage. It was there that the rumors had first started to spread. Tales of mutilated animals and crude vandalism plagued the once peaceful orphanage. Then there came the incident that set the tone for the rest of the whisperings. An incident between two students that left one child in the hospital and the other in confinement, a fight that left the one in the hospital scarred for life; horrible wounds inflicted all over his body. Wounds caused by the other child's hands, hands and teeth. He had spent the next month in a prison, before he was released under strict supervision. He had never found himself in trouble again, but that didn't stop people from speculating. Perhaps he wasn't a survivor from the settlement, but maybe of the raiding party. Why even the Dark Eldar would bring a child, not even ten years old, when children were such a rarity in their societies. Of course there was no way to corroborate such speculation, the two races were physically identical and there were no witnesses left from the settlement to testify either way. So the years past, the boy grew up and eventually joined an Aspect Temple, though it being the Dark Reaper Aspect certainly didn't help his reputation. Nothing had happened since then to elicit any concern, but Eldar are long lived and had long memories.

"I'm just saying why take the risk?"

"Because the vision specifically showed me that Bael Madeochen would accompany you on your mission, nothing more nothing less. Now I'm not saying you shouldn't watch him carefully, actually I'm ordering you to do so. But you can't let rumors and closet speculation taint your opinion of the man. After all he is a superb warrior, with over two hundred campaigns under his belt he will be an asset on your trip."

"I will do as you say Farseer." Eliza said with a bow of her head.

"You'd better; otherwise I might have to find another drinking partner!" Ceran called cheerfully raising her glass in a toast. Eliza mimicked the gesture.

"To a better past, brought forth by the labors of tomorrow." the Farseer intoned and Eliza nodded her agreement.

"To combat fate, one must kill its source." She added and the two women clinked their glasses together before downing the contents. Eliza swirled a thin pale finger around the rim of her empty glass.

"I think I need another drink."


	6. Five Star Accomadations

It was a weekday like any other in the Avalon Prime Docks district. This was to say crazy, throngs lining the streets like a living carpet of humanity, moving like an incoming tide towards the spaceport proper. The noise level in the crowded confines of the main throughway was cacophonous and the thick haze of exhaust from all the transports and carriages that were busy ferrying people and goods made the air hard to breathe.

Jax walked side by side with Darrius, the hooded cloaks they had been wearing since that morning bundled up underneath their arms, no longer necessary outside the warzone that was the Underhive. Here regular Arbites foot patrols could be seen combing the packed streets and on every other corner an officer stood on guard. They were armed with crowd control equipment; riots were quite common in the Dock's whether it was unruly Navy men on shore leave or disgruntled factory workers the precinct boys got plenty of practice.

The two gangers had ditched their weapons as soon as they had broke ground level, dumping the las-guns in a trash chute. They wouldn't need them where they were going and to be found with unauthorized weapons would be a court martial offense. Not a good way to start their new lives.

Jax still couldn't believe his good fortune. That Darrius had agreed to come with him and with so little convincing, it was awesome. Darrius was his best friend and only friend, having him around would make service in the Imperial Navy that much more bearable. It was pretty strange though, him just jumping on the idea so soon, after all Jax had been thinking of eloping for years now, only the tragedy of the past few days had opened up the possibility of it becoming a reality. Perhaps he had some ulterior motive, but even so he didn't care, the fact that he was coming with over shone any reason for his actions.

They arrived at the section of the Docks dedicated to official Imperial use, Departmento Munitorum warehouses, Adeptus Mechanicus machine shops and various Administratum offices dominated the landscape of the gigantic domed structure. As they made their way to the recruiting depot, Jax caught sight of a pair of Thunderbolt interceptor fighters taxiing towards the huge airlock doors that separated the hive from the toxic wasteland outside. Jax sighed as he remembered as a child wanting to be a fighter pilot when he grew up. It had started when he and Wing had snuck out of the orphanage and into a holo-pict theater. He had been seven years old at the time and it was the first time he had ever seen a movie. They were not allowed to watch the television back at the orphanage, the Nuns and Monks that ran it seemed to think they had better things to do than to waste their time on simple entertainment. Things like praying and studying. However as he had sat in that five credit late night matinee and watched the film, he had been taken by what he had seen on the screen. It was about a group of fighter pilots during the Gothic Wars and he had been entranced with the feats of heroism and daring he had witnessed. Sneaking back into the room he shared with forty other boys he had spent the remainder of the night imagining himself as one of those knights of the air. He had secretly made a promise to himself that as soon as he could, he'd ditch this place, join the Imperial Navy and become a pilot. It hadn't worked out.

"Damn man, look at the frakking lines!" Jax looked to where Darrius was pointing "Wouldn't think there be that many people looking to throw their lives away." His friend grumbled.

Many people was right! The depot was nearly bursting with humanity; as soon as they cleared the doors they literally had push people out of the way just to make headway. Jax let Darrius lead the way, the larger man parting the crowd with ease, whether with force or in most cases just a look. Getting past the initial crowd by the door they entered the building proper and Jax saw a couple of lines, two Navy ratings armed with shotguns standing at the head of each.

"Man how big is this building, those line just seem to go forever!" It was Jax's turn to now complain and hyperbole aside the lines did indeed stretch an impressive distance. On the far wall, he could just barely make out a row of windows, like those of bank tellers, with signs that he inferred must be displaying the separate branches of the Imperial military: Imperial Guard, Adeptus Arbites or Imperial Navy.

'Damn this is going to take frakking forever!' Jax thought, letting his eyes search for an expediting solution to their problem. Looking down the far side of the room he spied a bunch of smaller stalls lined up against the far wall.

"Hey those lines aren't so long over there!" He shouted to be heard over the clamor. Darrius looked where his friend was pointed then back at him. "Should we try 'em?"

He shrugged then nodded "Whatever man, one lines as good to me as another."

The two escaped from the morass of men and woman and made their way over to the far end of the room. Now that they were closer, Jax could see that each stall was equipped with a desk and a chair, in which sat a variety of men and women, some in military uniform and others dressed as civilian clothes. Picking one at random, Jax lead Darrius over to it and they settled down behind a thin wiry haired blonde man who was currently talking to the person behind the desk. Jax leaned in and listened to the conversation.

"Thank you Mr. Yarrick, that's all we need from you. Be sure to be here by oh-seven hundred tomorrow, otherwise we might just leave without you." Jax couldn't see the speaker clearly, but he could tell by his voice that he was joking with the other man.

"I will be here on time, don't you worry." The other man responded in a dry gravelly voice.

"Okay, say can I ask you a personal question?" the first speaker asked.

"Go ahead."

"Are you by any chance relat…"

"No, I'm not related." The other man growled, turned and stormed off. As he passed he flashed Jax a glare that would of K.O.'ed a Leman Russ. Jax just looked away then stepped forward to fill the vacant position.

"Ahoy there sailors! What can I do for you today?" the man behind the desk cheerfully called in a softly lisping voice and Jax had to blink when he finally took in the man behind the desk.

Dressed in a scarlet suit, white ruffled undershirt and leather knee high boots the man was a splitting image of a foppish noble. The way he held himself, ramrod straight with his hands resting in his lap only served to complete the stereotype. He was even wearing a leather tri-corner hat!

'Is that make-up?!' he regarded the alabaster powder on the man's face. "Um, is this, the um, uh." Jax sputtered, still trying to take in the garish spectacle in front of him.

"The Imperial Palace? The Uresaut Opera House on Pavonis? A glass of rare wine to go with your caviar?" the man quipped sarcastically, inspecting his manicured nails for defects. "You'll have to be a little more specific my good fellow, I'm afraid I'm no telepath."

Jax cleared his throat and went for strike two. "Um, are you with the Imperial Navy?" he finally managed.

The man looked them up and down. "No, I represent the good ship _Tantalus_, free trader, docked here to pick up supplies and additional crew members in preparation for an exploratory voyage." The man rose and bowed, sweeping off his hat in an elaborate gesture. "Henri Mouton, First Mate aboard the _Tantalus_, second to Captain Semptius, at your service."

"Oh, sorry, I, um thought you were with the Navy."

"Ha-ha, no my fine fellow if it's the Navy boys you're looking for then you'll want to make your way over there." He gestured, hat still in hand towards the screaming mob back where they had started.

"Okay, um nice meeting you." He stammered and walked back the way they had come.

"Oh believe me the pleasure was all mine! You be careful with those Navy men, they like to play rough!" the strange man called after them.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Darrius poked Jax in the back. "Good going J!"

"What? How was I supposed to know?!"

"I guess, but damn that cat was weird." Darrius shot a look back over his shoulder at the man who was once again sitting behind the desk and Henri blew him a kiss. The big man shuddered.

"Yeah, I didn't see clearly, but I think he was wearing a wig." He hadn't noticed it when he had been talking to the First Mate but he had definitely been wearing a white powdered wig, done down with a pony tail running out the back.

"I don't know man. I just don't know." Darrius finished their conversation as they approached the tail end of the lines. Asking around they found the one that led to the Navy office and settled in for the long haul.

Jax tapped his feet impatiently, they had been waiting at the end of the line for the past fifteen minutes and they hadn't moved a single foot. Even worse he had noticed out of the corner of his eye, one of the Naval Ratings standing next to him at foot of the queue had been staring at him non-stop since they had arrived. The man's eyes bored into the side of his head and Jax tried to hold his cool, he really did. But eventually his anger won out and he turned to face the man.

"What?" he asked.

The Navy Rating didn't move, but beneath the black tinted visor that covered the man's eyes Jax could see his mouth fixed in a frown. "Nothing gang-scum, mind your own fucking business." He snarled.

Jax looked around for some reason for the man's hostility "What's your scavving problem?"

The man shifted slightly, hand resting lightly on the butt of his shotgun. "My problem is that shit like you is still allowed to walk around freely in this day and age. Scum, thieving ratling gang bangers don't deserve to walk on the same streets as the Emperors citizens." He spat at the ground in front of him.

Jax bunched his fists and tried to restrain the urge to snap the man's neck. He could feel Darrius tensing up behind him and felt confident with his friend at his back. "Well ain't you all high and mighty, hiding behind your gun and your bullshit morality. Life on the streets is tough, tougher than any little crap faggy bitch like yourself could handle. Why don't you go fuck yourself! Or better yet" he nodded towards the guards partner stationed across the queue. "why don't you get your butt buddy to do it!"

The guard lunged forward, swinging his shotgun like a truncheon for Jax's head. However he had been expecting this and dodged to the side, metal banded wood stock swinging harmlessly through the air. Throwing a quick jab that connected quite ineffectually with the side of the guard's helmet, Jax was about to throw a knee when he received a heavy blow to the base of the neck, the other guard coming to his partners aid. Falling to his knees he brought his head up just in time to receive a roundhouse to the jaw from the now recovered first guard, which threw him back and onto the floor.

Dizzily getting back to his feet, he was glad of Darrius' support as his friend came over and held him steady. Behind him he could hear the tossed insults and mocking laughter of the guards and some of the citizens waiting in line. Jax ignored them, he had learned his lesson already and he let Darrius lead him stumbling out of the crowd back to the far side of the room.

"Where the hell were you D?" Jax cursed, carefully running a finger along his teeth to see if any were lose. Finding none he instead contented himself with gingerly touching the now forming bruise.

"Hey man, you want to go out all half cocked and get your ass beat, it ain't no business of mine!"

"Whatever! Emperor damn it, that's gonna be ugly!" he pulled his hand back and glared at the other man.

"Eh you're lucky your mug is already messed up. Little color might be an improvement."

Jax just ignored his friend, so Darrius continued "So what now man? I don't think that was the kind of first impression the Navy is looking for. You wanna come back tomorrow?"

"Fuck the Navy!" Jax frowned and was about to suggest that they leave when a familiar airy voice cut him off.

"Ooo, only in your dreams!" They had inevitably wandered back to the private stalls and now the foppish man was joining in on the taunting. "I told you those Navy boy's were rough!"

"Just ignore him Jax." Darrius cautioned, but Jax wasn't listening, instead he began to quickly walk towards the seated man. Darrius quickly caught up to him.

"Hey man, just keep your cool, don't freak. He's just a square, it's not worth it."

Jax continued on his march and Darrius prayed to the Emperor this wouldn't end messily.

The lanky brown haired youth slammed his hand down on Henri's desk.

"Well hello handsome, I knew you couldn't stay away." The fop flashed a huge smile and Darrius winced at what he was sure was to come.

However Jax surprised him, by not putting his fist through the man's teeth but instead scribbling down his name on the clipboard that was sitting on the desk.

"I would like to join your crew." He said dramatically dropping his pen and stepping back arms crossed. Darrius shrugged bent over and signed his name as well.

Henri smiled up at the pair, reached around and slid the clip board over to where he could read it. "Okay Mr. Bishop and Mr., ah, Mire. The contract you just signed, without reading might I add, is for a two year commitment aboard the free merchant ship _Tantalus_. Pay is in the form of fifteen hundred credits per month of service, greater if you are employed in a hazardous or specialty job. You have the standard rights granted by the Articles of Maritime Law, housing, food and a rather generous medical plan." He looked back up at the two and crossed his arms. "So would you now feel inclined to enlighten me as to what qualifications you possess that would make you valuable addition to my crew?"

Jax swallowed nervously. He hadn't expected this and as Henri looked from one to the other, eyebrow rising in silent amusement; he was immensely relieved when Jax spoke up first.

"I served three years in the Tolis Planetary Defense Force until I was discharged at the rank of corporal. I received commendations in marksmanship, hand to hand combat and guerilla tactics. My specialization was in vox casting. My active duty was spent with the Tolis 35th Regiment. My service number was 856-300-9696."

"Ah very good, I believe we have a spot open in security that you can fill nicely." He pulled up the clipboard and began quickly filling in the required information. Finishing he set the forms back down and turned to Jax "And what about you young man?"

Jax bit his lip, what was he supposed to say? Years of weapons experience garnered from life on the street? Hundreds of hour's worth of laboratory work, creating chems? Diplomatic negotiations at the end of a switchblade? He gulped.

Sensing his hesitation Henri sighed "Any experience working with spacecraft or combat experience?" he offered.

Jax shook his head.

"Ever worked as a clerk or scribe? Any technical experience? Flunked out of the Adeptus Mechanicus perhaps?

Another shake.

"Well then boy, what good to me are you?"

Jax was sweating. He wouldn't be left here alone! There had to be something, think, think, think, think…

"Uh, I can cook." He blurted out, though it was barely more than a murmur.

The man behind the desk leaned in and held a hand to his ear. "What did you say?"

"I can cook?" he answered louder though it was now more of a question. It was true though, he could cook. He had first learned the basics through the orphanages kitchen, confined there time after time for some disciplinary infraction or another. Watching the cooks from his position over the dirty dishes he had picked up the ways of the culinary arts and later when the future Moonrunners had all run away he had delighted his friends by cooking for them. Not that he ever really had the necessary ingredients on hand for gourmet cuisine, but with imagination he could turn rather ordinary (or disgusting) parts into a palpable whole.

Henri didn't say anything, just sat there staring at Jax with eyebrow upraised. Jax could fell the sweat dripping down his back and he had to force himself to stop from fidgeting.

"Excellent!" Jax comically jumped at the man's excited exclamation. "We've needed a new Cook's assistant since the last one…well since the last one." Henri once again picked up the clipboard and filled in the necessary details. Putting it down he stood up again and shook hands with both of them, big grin plastered on his face. "Well boyos, may I be the first to say, congratulations and welcome to the _Tantalus_!"

…

"By the Emperor." Jax whispered, staring out the shuttles observation port. Below him Tolis' brown stained surface filled the entirety of his vision, shining dully in the light of its single sun. Lines of blackish pollution tracked across the planet's surface, gross parodies of clouds. Taking his eyes off the spectacle with great reluctance he turned his attention back to his friend who was sitting across from him.

"Pretty cool isn't it man?" Darrius asked lounging on the plush leather padded bench across from him. The cabin of the Aquila shuttle was much nicer than the PDF variants that he had been on before for training and he was having a nice time enjoying the luxurious commodities offered by this model. The padded headrests and warmed seats were most decadent.

"Frak yeah! I've never been outside the hive, let alone off the planet!" he pointed excitedly over his shoulder at the porthole "And now I'm flying in a frakking spaceship and getting paid for it too!"

Darrius chuckled at the younger man's enthusiasm. He had been like this since they had arrived at the spaceport earlier this morning. They had reported as ordered at the spaceport after spending a restless night at a nearby bar and tavern combo. Both had been in agreement that they couldn't risk a trip back to the Underhive; it had only been two days and doubtless the local gangs would still be in a frenzy trying to cash in on their bounty, so they only had the money in their wallets to pay for lodgings. Suffice it to say they had not spent the night comfortably and had been more than happy when morning came and they had left the cramped apartment. Jax had led the way on their trip and Darrius was happy to see his friend in high spirits again. Everyone dealt with tragedy in their own way and Jax's method was to bury his feelings under the press of his daily life. Darrius understood this and had purposely refrained from bringing up the events that had happened in the last three four days. His friend deserved it. When he was ready to talk, they'd talk.

"Damn D, look at that!" Jax said, rushing to the other side of the compartment. The shuttle had finally passed through the last remains of the planet's atmosphere and was currently holding a stationary orbit with one of the orbital shipyards. Darrius calmly got up and came up behind the younger man and looked over his shoulder.

Damn was right. The dock took up the entirety of the porthole, its blocky sides stretching far out of sight to either side. Huge grids of interlocking steel girders made up most of the immense structure, the rest being composed of enclosed pressurized crews compartments and storage facilities. Lights peppered the entire length, twinkling in the darkness like the stars themselves. All along its super-structure turrets bristled with a myriad of weapons. Energy lances, bombardment cannons and missile tubes all took up a significant portion of the surface of the beast. Huge plasteel doors indicated airlock enclosed shuttle bays for transfer of personnel and raw materials from the planet's surface.

Jax didn't see any of this however; his attention was solely fixed what lay nestled in the arms of the orbital construction yard. Ships, dozens of them, all shapes and sizes, all in various stages of completion were anchored around the dock. Squinting, he could just make out the tiny forms of what must be vacuum-suited workers clamoring over the dry docked behemoths. They looked just like insects picking over the bones of a larger animal, though instead of stripping flesh from the lifeless remains they were endowing them with life.

Suddenly Jax jumped back as a flash of grey and blue movement directly outside the shuttle caused him to fall away from the porthole in fright. Unfortunately he landed right on top of an equally alarmed Darrius and in the time it took for them to untangle themselves and get back up to the porthole whatever it was had gone. Then in the next instant the blur of color and movement came again, but this time Jax managed to retain his footing and as he tracked the object as it broke off from them and retreated into the distance he was surprised to find it to be a Imperial Thunderbolt fighter, undoubtedly running some kind of patrol route.

"Bloody show-off pilots." The man who was sitting across from them grumbled. It was the same man from the recruiting office yesterday, the one who had gotten upset when Henri had asked him about his name. He and the First Mate made up the rest of the people in the passenger compartment. Apparently this was the last shuttle run between the _Tantalus _and planet side, Henri had told them as much when they had first boarded the spacecraft, they were very lucky to have signed up when they did. Captain Semptius had ordered the departure of the _Tantalus _today at 1200 and according to the First Mate the only thing keeping them anchored her was the last bit of supplies being brought along with this shuttle.

Jax felt the orbital lander's frame shake as the shuttle turned on a new vector, turning away from the dock and heading in a new direction.

"Alright ladies, we're on the final approach to the good ship _Tantalus_ and I'd you to take this moment to stow your luggage and zip your flies, making sure to stay in your seat until this boat comes to a complete stop. Oh and you might wanna get back in your seats, fasten your restraints and stop dicking around. Thank you." The pilot's voice crackled over the internal vox caster and Jax and Darrius hurried to comply. And they managed to do so just in time as the spacecrafts afterburners kicked in and they were slammed to the side by the acceleration. The sensation only lasted for a short while however before it was replaced by the smooth gliding as they began to coast again.

"Hey D, what do you think it's going to be like? The _Tantalus_ I mean." Jax whispered to his friend, now strapped in next to him and the big man twisted his mouth in consideration before he responded.

"Well according to what the First Mate said earlier, she's an Explorator class frigate, built for long distance trading. I don't really know much about ships but I think a frigate is bigger than a destroyer but smaller than a cruiser. Other than that I don't know."

Jax turned away and was about to ask the First Mate for greater detail when the craft shook with another series of judders and he felt in his gut the distinct feeling of slowing, then coming to a stop.

A clank and a quiet shudder throughout the air and frame behind him served to tell Jax that they had touched down in what he assumed was a hanger of some sort. Struggling to remove his harness, he was irked to see the other three men already out of their restraints. He couldn't figure it out and as he jiggled and picked at the harness he wished he had paid attention when Darrius had undone his the first time.

"It helps when you hit the big red button in the center lad." The man with surname Yarrick suggested, and Jax slapped at the now obvious solution to his problem, face red in shame. "First time in a shuttle?" the man asked again.

Jax warily nodded his head, unsure where this man was going.

"Hmm, I thought so." He held out his hand "Joseph James Yarrick." Jax took a look at him, tall, blonde hair, stern patrician features framing a pair of gleaming bluish gray eyes. Jax took his hand and applied a firm hand shake.

"Jax, Jax Bishop." He said and took back his hand. The other man turned away and started to walk to the rear of the shuttle, the exit ramp now just starting to descend.

"Hey there landlubber!" Jax jumped as the gloved hand of the First Mate slapped him on the shoulder from behind. "We can't stand here all day smelling the roses, get a move on!"

"Yes s-sir!" Jax stuttered out, unsure how to address his superior.

"That's more like it! Now pretty boy let's get a move on! Mince, mince, mince!" Jax was propelled down the walkway, down the now unfolded shuttle ramp and into the cavernous hanger beyond. All the way he was painfully aware of Darrius', who was bringing up the rear, snickering.

The hanger was full to the brim with crates, barrels and other assorted containers. From where he was Jax could see some of the crates were adorned with the olive drab pattern and Imperial double eagle that identified them as military crates. He quickly put down the painful association that came to mind, and instead turned his attention to a solitary figure standing nonchalantly at rest in the center of the loading dock. Middling height, short brown hair and a pair of amber eyes to match, thin athletic frame contained in a pair of Guard issue urban pattern camouflaged pants, black polished boots and grey duty issue t-shirt.

"Gentlemen I'd like to introduce you to our Crew Chief here on the _Tantalus_," The First Mate announced, breaking off from the group to stand behind the figure. "the beautiful and _very_ talented Tanya Hutchinson. She is your immediate superior if you've been assigned as general crew and is going to give you the grand tour! I will see you gentlemen later; I have some very important officer things to take care of. Too-ta-loo!" he called as he marched, or rather pranced off through one of the bulk head doors.

The woman stepped forward, Jax could now see it was a woman from the slight bulges under her loose shirt, and casually let her eyes drift over the three of them. "Alright you last minute stow-away sons of bitches, the capt'n has appointed me as your baby sitter for the moment, so let's get this over as soon as possible. Which one's of you are general crew and which of you are assigned to security detail? Let's get into two groups." A slight hesitation on the part of the assembled crewman prompted a greater response. "MOVE!" she bellowed.

The three separated with Darrius and Joseph on one side and Jax left alone on the other.

"Well since you two idiots seem to be able to form a two person rank correctly, I'm guessing you're here for the meathead position. Your immediate superior is Marc Ingram; he's in charge of ship security. I'll drop you off at his office after I show you the ropes. " She addressed the two men standing to the right before turning to Jax, arms crossed over her chest. "Which leaves you ink blot, what are you here for?"

Jax rubbed his heavily tattooed neck with embarrassment. "Um, cooks assistant." He muttered.

Tanya placed her hands on her hips "Kitchen help, you?!" she asked incredulously "Man, Mouton must be scraping the bottom of the barrel, or hive in any case. Well anyways you'll be the cooks problem soon enough." She walked up to him, glared up at him and drove a finger into his chest, hard. "But let's clear your head of kakking shit right now ganger-scum! Yeah I know what all those tat's mean, seen plenty of chem burned psychos in the Guard, think their hot shit cuz they used to run wild in whatever hole they spawned from. You know where they all ended up? Dead and scavving buried that's where. And if you fuck up, well just remember that you'll be under _me_! And I don't play nice, not like your little hive rat pillow pals!" she poked him again.

Jax sniggered at her use of words. "I don't think I'd mind that." The chuckles from Darrius and Joseph told him he wasn't alone in his amusement.

Unfortunately the same couldn't be said of everyone. Tanya flashed a smile and Jax collapsed to his knees, clutching his groin to protect it against further abuse. He hadn't even seen her move.

"Come on let's get this over." She turned on point and walked to the hanger's airlock. The other two men followed, Darrius patting Jax on the shoulder and Joseph giving him a sympathetic look. Jax painfully pulled himself to his feet and waddled after the group.

Tanya took the next hour and a half to get them familiarized with the _Tantalus_' layout, at least the parts of the ship that they were allowed to access. She showed them the storerooms, the gym, the briefing rooms, crew mess and armory. Jax was impressed with the amount and quality of ordinance contained in the munitions store.

"You wouldn't think you'd need all this heavy hardware on a merchant ship. I mean missile launchers, las-guns, grenades, mortars, a frakking las-cannon?!" Jax questioned, gesturing around the crowded room.

"Pirates are notoriously violent ghetto trash, something I'd think you'd be quite familiar with." The Crew Chief mocked "But if you're worrying about yourself losing control and offing yourself, don't worry there are only two keys to this room and you have neither of them." She ushered them outside, nodding to the bored looking security guard stationed at the desk there.

The final stop on the tour turned out to be the crew quarters and Julie paused in front of the pressure sealed doors that lead to the crew lodging section. "We have standard twenty four hour Terran light schedule onboard. Your individual schedules will be issued to you by your section chiefs, but general revelry is at 0600 and breakfast is at 0630." She turned the lock wheel mounted on the bulkhead door and it swung open with a gentle push.

They all followed the woman inside the door filled hallway and for the first time Jax noticed just how well the crew chief filled her uniform and he wondered how he had ever mistaken her for a man.

'Probably distracted by her muscles, damn that girl can hit." He reflected sullenly, unconsciously rubbing the front of his trousers.

The woman in question had stopped again in front of clipboard that was hanging from a chain on the bulkhead. Picking it up, she scanned over the document, scribbled something and set it back down. "Okay, Mire and Yarrick…Yarrick? Like Sebastion Y…"

"No!" Joseph grated, face flushed with anger, and Julie raised her hands in supplication.

"Okay, okay, Emperor damn man. Anyways, Mire and Yarrick I'm assigning you to room B-10, that's down the corridor here to the left. Latrines and showers are at through the double doors at the end of the hallway. Mr. Bishop, I'm putting you down in C-25, which is down the ladder and along the hall." She gestured to a ladder mounted flush against the wall that dissapeared both up into the ceiling and into a hole below. "We currently have an odd number of personnel on board and lucky you you're the odd one out and you get your own room, though personally I'd say lucky everyone else. Hope you enjoy your accommodations." She flashed a wicked smile.

Before Jax could ask what she meant, the short haired woman continued.

"Now go store your gear, change into your uniforms and you two meet me back here in five. Then I'll take the two of you to meet with Security Chief Ingram." She turned her attention back to Jax "Inky after you're done with your crap, make your way to the kitchen." She paused to fix him with a glare. "And don't go off playing with yourself, the cook's expecting you shortly. You're dismissed." With that she walked off.

Jax grabbed the pack he had been lugging around since that morning and turned down the hallway, Darrius and Joseph doing the same.

"Man J, she seems to have a hard on for you!" Darrius laughed sarcastically, slinging his heavy duffel bag effortlessly over his shoulder.

"He's right lad, you make quite a first impression. I'd hate to see how you handle your second date." Joseph chimed in and Jax quickly made his way down the ladder to the deck below, leaving them and their sardonic laughter behind.

Grumbling curses directed at Tanya, Darrius and the Universe in general, Jax dragged his bag down to the end of the hall, taking in the numbers mounted above the empty cabin doors as he passed them. As he made his way down the corridor he noticed that this section seemed to be used primarily for storage as the few open doors he passed were filled with extra bedrolls, cots and other assorted domestic items. At one point he even passed a room occupied by a pair industrial sized washer and dryer. Finally he reached the end of the corridor, noting the cluster of coolant pipes that ran along the ceiling through the bulkhead above his room, and pushed open the rather stained door with C-25 stenciled in big bold black lettering. Thankfully it didn't squeak as the hinges must have been oiled recently.

However all his hopes of a decent room were dashed as he surveyed the compartments ruined interior. It looked like someone had taken a power maul to half of it, the cot smashed in half and locker ripped to a hundred pieces. The blankets were shredded and the pillows were nowhere to be found. To make matters worse a steady drip of whatever ran through the overhead pipes made a little rivulet into a crack in the floor.

"Vindictive bitch." He muttered kicking an empty ration can into the corner with a clank.

However the closet was intact and Jax set his duffel bag down and opened it finding three sets of blue colored overalls hanging inside. They were like some of the ones he had seen on the various crew members they had passed on their tour, so he guessed it must be the uniform. Underneath them was a pair of Guard issue boots, three pairs of socks, a couple pair of brief style underwear and some white-undershirts.

He disrobed and dressed in the provided clothes, then stowed his duffel bag under the remains of his bunk. He'd have to appropriate some replacement furniture from the storerooms down the hall, maybe find some damn caulk for that damn pipe. He looked up as the twice cursed object dripped right on his forehead. Damn.

But that would have to wait until later; right now he had a career to start. So he left his cozy new apartment and headed to the mess, immediately getting lost on the way.

…

The door to the Captain's cabin slid back into the ceiling with a quiet hiss and Henri Mouton stepped through. As always he paused to let his eyes adjust to the dim interior light and his senses take in the mind numbing qualities of the ever present incense. It came in the form of noxious looking clouds ejected from the air ducts mounted in the ceiling, administered alongside the recycled air. The First Mate kneeled and removed his hat.

"Sire, I have come to inform you that the last shipment of supplies from the planet has arrived, alongside three new crew members. The helmsman reports we have cleared the last Imperial picket, the section heads have all called in their readiness and the Tech Priest divines no irregularities with the machine spirits. We are ready."

Deep within the darkest confines of the chambers corners a shadowy figure waved his consent. "Inform the navigator to begin preparations to enter the warp." The voice was surprisingly mellifluous and young sounding. "Oh and page Skrugg, tell him he can come out of hiding. I'm expecting an early dinner tonight in my dining room and I feel like something fried."

"Yes my lord." Henri rose and turned to leave, but paused as something came to mind. "Sire if I may pry, were our exploits on the planet's surface successful?"

The dark figure chuckled "You may Henri. Yes we found what we came for; it's secured and safe in the vault. Dr. Derious is trying to puzzle it out right now as we speak."

"Oh that is good news indeed my lord," he said cheerfully "Well I'm off to rouse Petr from whatever drunken stupor the idiot has gotten himself in." he turned to leave and the door whisked open once again. However he paused once again at the threshold, turning his head to the side. "Your Master would have been very proud of you Isaiah, just as we all are."

Silence greeted his announcement and after a moment more he started forward again, the door sluicing closed and cutting off the scent of ground cloves and sanctified herbs once again.


	7. The Other Side

The dark voids between the reach of stars is marked by black swathes on the star maps of the civilized races. These astral deserts are empty of life, the only objects to occupy their space, desolate hunks of rocks, derelict wrecks and the dreaded space hulks. Modern manned spaceships had no reason to step foot in their barren clutches, warp travel making such excursions unnecessary. So the wilds of interstellar space lay largely unexplored and unregulated as Imperial picket ships stuck to inhabited systems for their patrol routes.

The sector to the galactic west of the planet Tolis in the Deyar sector was such a blank space, the astronomical charts designating it as subsector Etuis, home to minor asteroid belt, and leaving it at that. Really more of a footnote than a description but Battle fleet Deyar had no business there so it was left as such.

Today there was something worth of note happening in the empty swathe of space, not that any Administratum scribe would ever get to mark its passage.

Framed against the empty plane, the _Black Saint_ lingered like a fat charcoal colored tick on the galaxy's underbelly. Over six kilometers from bow to stern the Slaughter class cruiser was a fearsome and noble sight to behold. Jutting gargoyles adorned the fearsome ships jutting corners and sweeping gothic columns and faux stained glass hull sections completed the illusion, turning the floating monstrosity into a splitting image of a mobile cathedral and an extremely well armed one at that.

Lance batteries, lined six one each side, shared space with heavy bombardment cannons and heavy torpedo tubes. Alongside the bottom of the ancient craft ran the titanic proportioned plasma cannon, capable of vaporizing entire cities from orbit with one shot. Fighter bays speckled the rear section of the bridge tower capable and willing to at any minute disgorge dozens of short range fighters and bombers, or boarding craft as seen fit. Heavy troop transports lay nestled in recessed sections of the hull. With them troop deployment to an orbited planet would be fast and ruthlessly efficient, bringing the soldiers and heavy machinery needed to dominate any situation within a mere matter of hours.

Inside the behemoth was equally impressive and dangerous. The cathedral theme was continued, but in most places horribly warped. Obscene tapestries adorned the bare metal walls of the hallways, depicting acts of the most loathsome and debased nature. Altars were set up in meeting halls, mutilated bodies splayed in obscene acts of sacrifice, blood pooling on the deck below. In some places organic protrusions mixed with the mechanical workings of the ship, tendrils of pulpy flesh working in sync with the millennium old equipment. The air itself was heavy and poignant, rich with perfumed scents and aerosolized hallucinogenic cocktails of the most potent dangerous sort. Those not acclimated and protected from the subversive atmosphere would find themselves falling to their knees in gibbering, slobbering madness or running wildly through the ships halls from hallucinated evils. Which was odd, to say that there were plenty of those around anyways.

Deep within the command spire lurked one of those evils.

Lucious the Blessed sat on her/his leather covered throne, rapping his fingers on the padded armrest. With every rap, the chair shuddered, the still living bodies of the victims used to construct it moaning out their pleasure at his consecrated touch. In his other hand she clutched a jewel encrusted golden gauntlet, filled with the finest wine the Eye could produce, its surface boiling and smoking with untold magick qualities.

"My lord, it's just as you predicted, our agents on the surface, they...they followed the Inquisitor, he went to the merchant and took something from him." The nasally voice of the man prostrated in front of him was starting to annoy the Slanneshi sorcerer. "The ship has left the planet's cordon zone and has entered the immaterium as you again predicted. Truly your insight and farseeing power knows no bounds my lord. Let me be the first to congratul…"

Lucious cut the sneeviling man off with a wave of her hand. "Of course it happened as I foresaw, I who am most betrothed to our most unholy patron. Your doubt displeases me." He gestured again and cut off the man's sycophantic protestations before they inevitably began, sending a psychic jolt straight into his mind. Immediately the unfortunate cultist fell to the skin covered floor, muscles twitching as untold orgasmic pain over threw his nervous system into complete ruin. Tendons snapped as his body cavorted into impossible angles and blood leaked from his mouth. The eyes boiled, popping like rotten eggs, spurting pus and bile high into the air. The sounds of ribs cracking in the most pleasant manner met the sorcerer's ears along with the audible squishing noise of internal organs popping and liquefying. The stench of excrement and blood mixed with the ambient aroma of incense to create a truly unique smell.

Lucious took a swig of his tainted wine, a smile now gracing her lupine features. Suffering always pleased the god of debauchery and as one of his devoted servants it was the same for him. However as always the need for more stimulation gnawed at her mind and he pressed the intercom button mounted on his living throne's arm.

"Yurick, inform the supplicants to gather in the arboretum, I'm feeling in the mood for a party." She instructed, already salivating at the prospect of further debased revelry.

"Yes my lord." The intercom spoke, not an electronic buzz, but instead in a gurgling voice. It was after all a mouth and a pair of ears, one of those from his chair's unfortunate victims that was now slaved to this task.

"A party?" a low sloppy voice called from the far shadows of the throne room. Lucious' second in command and Master at Arms now made his appearance, stepping out of the dark and into the smoky half light of the chamber, all three purple and black armored meters of him. He was a fearsome and disturbing sight. His power armor was coated with dried blood and sexual secretions, his shoulder pauldron adorned with the winged claw of his legion. His stylized helmet was hanging at his side, revealing his highly mutated and fantastically scarred facial structure to light. Missing the lower portion of his jaw, it was instead replaced by a pair of dripping mandibles like the jaws of some giant beetle. Between them the thing that had once been his tongue hung, long and phallic like, vibrating wetly with every uttered syllable.

"Yes Maldor, the demon-helm has already been instructed to follow the False Emperor's ship through the warp at a distance and we will be alerted if they drop out." Lucious stated, already bored again and literally itching with impatience to get down to the festivities soon to be occurring below.

The Emperor's Children Chaos Marine, laughed a low wet sickly sound. "I do not doubt it Lucious, I merely wished to verify my own ears. We have not had a proper offering for some time." He began to shudder then, orgasmic seizures at the very thought of their hermaphroditic deities blessing. To combat this, the purple giant pulled his combat knife from its sheathe and began to violently slice the skin of his exposed scalp, the comforting feel of old scars reopening and blood dripping into his eyes serving to calm him.

Seeing his seconds return to sanity, Lucious stood, readjusted her pristine fur robes over his curvaceous form and stepped over the still twitching remains of the nameless cultist. Stepping up to the now moaning Marine, she reached up with his finger and wiped some of the blood matting the giant's long bright violet colored hair. Sliding the digit into her mouth he savored the taste of the tainted blood before wrapping his one arm sensuously around the Chaos Marine's filthy midsection.

"Well then let us make with the revelries." Lucious said in a sultry tone, leading her second by the hand out of the throne room and into the twisted passages beyond. He could already hear faint screams coming from below and she quickened her pace, soon sprinting with mad abandon. The party had already started; it wouldn't do to be late.

…

Jax paused at an intersection, considering which passage to take.

'They all look the damn same, how are you supposed to find your way!' he mentally raged.

He picked one at random, pursuing the left corridor. Soon his judgment was rewarded as he stumbled upon a sign marked "Mess" and his meandering journey was at last over. He didn't know how long he had been wandering throughout the bowels of the _Tantalus_, but he knew it hadn't been over an hour. That probably wouldn't do him any good though, if his boss was anything like Tanya. He cursed the woman again and imagined what he would have done to her if they had met back in Avalon.

'Damn probably the same," he admitted to himself 'that girl is frakking crazy!'

All thoughts of his boss, good or bad were whisked away as the corridor in front of him seemed to stretch and bend, like melted rubber poured out over glass. He dropped to his knees, placing his hands on his stomach as he dried retched. The sense of vertigo was intense but as fast as it came the feeling subsided and his vision returned to normal.

'Shit, so that must have been a warp jump.' He surmised picking himself off the floor. 'Now I know why everybody on boards so crazy, if they have to put up with that sort of thing all the time.' He quickly stumbled his way to the mess entrance, glad he hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday. Otherwise his jumpsuit would have been vomit encrusted; he'd already had one bad impression today and didn't want another.

The mess was as he remembered it, three rows of long low floor mounted tables taking up the majority of the space, a serving counter on one side and a condiment station on the other. Currently there was an assortment of crew members lounging at the tables, a mixture of blue and olive drab colored overalls. The green he would soon learn, marked the crewman as a member of the security detail, the blue general crew. Ignoring the looks some of the crew threw in his direction he made his way to the double doors that led to the kitchen. They were blue and had little clear plastic portholes that you could look through. Jax did and saw an assortment of ovens and sinks as well as devices he had no idea the nature of.

Feeling confident he pushed the double hinged doors wide open and marched into the kitchen. He was determined not to botch this, his future depended on having good relations with his boss, maybe even intimidating him a little for a little leeway. Jax felt that he was more than able to do such a thing. While he was nowhere near as big as Darrius, he was tall and muscular in a lean whipcord kind of way that implied great speed and strength. Mix in his short cropped brown hair, cold blue eyes and tattooed frames he cast quite the menacing figure. At least that's what he figured.

However his cowing would have to wait, as he cast his gaze left and right about the large kitchen he couldn't catch site of his future taskmaster. Making his way through the room he took notice of the assorted meats and vegetable products hanging from hooks and was secretly overjoyed by the abundance and variety he found. Pair that with all the fancy equipment and he'd sure he'd be having a swell time soon enough. True it was a little messy, flour and bits of food littered the floor, but he'd been in dirtier places and frankly the smell of something absolutely delightful reminded he hadn't eaten in ages. Finally he had searched the entire area, but no boss. However he had noticed another door at the rear of the room on his first inspection and now he figured it to be some kind of office, maybe who he was looking for was in there.

As he approached the portal he was intrigued by its interesting paintjob, eye paining red slashed with lime green stripes and adorned with some kind of crude skull drawing. Placing his hand on the oversized handle, he experienced a sudden feeling of trepidation, but he quickly squashed and dismissed it as the interview jitters and swung open the door…

And found himself face to face with something big, green and full of teeth.

Jax fell on his ass and let his eyes slowly pan up the impossible monstrosity standing in front of him. Thick bowed legs, clad in loose fitting purple shorts gave way to a ridiculously broad torso contained in a two sizes too tight black tank top. Huge muscular arms, hanging well past the creatures hips in an apelike manner, ended in head sized hands, one of which was currently gripping a giant rolling pin. A bowed neck, slouched forwards in a prime example of bad posture, held a huge head with a jutting distended jaw full of huge, pointy white teeth. Beady red eyes glowered out from below a protruding brow, fixing Jax with a baleful stare. Oh and its skin was dark green.

Jax let all this pour through his mind, and then faster than he thought he was capable of rolled to his feet and sprinted out of the kitchen and into the mess, screaming at the top of his lungs.

"MONSTER! XENO'S ATTACK AHHHH!" his sudden appearance snapped every head in the mess hall towards him, people dropping their cards or drinks and rushing to surround him.

"What is it boy? What's matter?" a big man with a crew cut, garbed in the green of a security team member, grabbed him by the shoulders and tried to get some sense out of him. He was however beyond reasoning and wrestled out of the man's hold sprinting towards the entrance to the mess, all thoughts except those concerning flight stripped from his mind.

Just as he reached the portal for escape, someone stepped in front of his path of travel and dropping him with a clothesline, slamming him to the deck on his back and knocking the wind out of him.

When he finally and painfully opened his eyes he found the upside down and leering face of Crew Chief Hutchinson staring triumphantly back. "What's up numb-nuts?" she sneered.

Jax pulled himself into a sitting position, coughing as he rubbed his neck. "There's a monster in the kitchen." He finally managed in a voice no more than a hoarse croak. "I think it ate the cook." He added.

The crowd that had once again surrounded him broke out in laughter. He looked around in confusion "Didn't you hear what I just said! There's a green thing in the kitchen and it ate the fucking cook! Why is that funny?!" he shouted trying to make sense of the strange turn of events.

Finally Tanya managed to gain control over her laughter. "That is the cook you dumbass!" she looked at his dumbfounded look and added "That's your boss Skrugg!" before cracking up again.

The crowd eventually finished up their fun and returned to what they had been doing before it all began. Jax finally got to his feet and glared at Tanya. "What do you mean that _thing _is my boss? That's a frakking xeno!"

Tanya looked at Jax like he was sitting in the corner covered in his own drool "Of course he's a xeno idiot! You think people have green skin naturally? Maybe they do in whatever inbred mutation full rat district you come from, but Skrugg is an ork, so shit for brains, yes he's a xeno."

Jax grimaced as he tried to recall what he knew about orks. Yeah that sounded right, big, green, human eater. "But aren't orks like man killers? What the hell is one doing as the cook on an Imperial ship? Humans don't exactly work with xenos. 'Trust not the Xeno.' Haven't you ever been to church?"

Tanya poked Jax in the chest, a feeling he was growing rather accustomed too, "This isn't the Imperium's ship, this is Captain Semptius' ship and Skrugg isn't like other orks. As the First Mate explained it to me he's a "genetic anomaly" one of a kind, doesn't create those damn spores and isn't so violent. Smarter than your average greenskin too. Apparently the Capt'n and Mouton found him on some jungle planet like twenty years ago, he saved them from an ork ambush, and they saved him from the attention of the other orks in return. They do that you know; kill anything that isn't orky 'nough."

Jax thought that was the longest thing she had said to him, at least without insulting him halfway through. "That's all fine and dandy but how did he end up as the frakkin' cook?"

Tanya shrugged "I don't know he just has a feel for it I guess. It's really amazing, you know, he can make like anything you ask for, whether it's slop or pickled grox brain pie, doesn't matter. Damn tasty too…" She trailed off, staring through Jax's head and off into space.

Jax still couldn't get his head around the whole thing. "But he's an Emperor damn xeno!"

This seemed to snap the woman out of whatever fantasy land she had landed in and her eye's slanted in anger. "Yeah that may be true, but he's your damn boss! So yeah he might be an ork, but I still like him better than your little shit for brains mug. So how about you get on your hands and knees and crawl back into the kitchen and beg him for an apology."

Jax snapped "What the fuck is your problem?" he didn't care if she was his superior, years of hard times and harder actions finally overcame his sense of self preservation. "I've only been here for less than four hours and already you're treating me like shit! You don't even know me! How is it my fault that I didn't expect to find a scavving xeno in the sodding kitchen!? It's not and don't you think you can walk all over me just because you're supposedly my throne damned superior!" he was deep in the shit now, but he was beyond caring, his voice had already grown from an angry hiss to a shout.

If the Crew Chiefs face had been angry before she was livid now, but Jax didn't let her get a word in edgewise, letting his voice fall back down to a talking level, icy cold and continuing.

"So you put me in the shittiest cabin, you make fun of me for being new and not knowing the ropes. But when you insult who I am and where I come from I don't care if your ex-Guard or whatever the fuck you claim to be, no one fucks with Jax Bishop like that. I've killed more people than you've shook hands with and I won't think twice about adding another to that list. So shut the fuck up, get out of my way and let me do my work without sticking your frakking nose in it." He finished giving her one final icy stare before turning and heading back towards the kitchen. On his way there he noticed the way the rest of crew members in the mess were staring at him, shocked disbelief plain on their faces. He paid them no mind.

Tanya stood where he had left her, glaring hateful daggers at his back before twirling around and marching back the way she had originally come from.

Kicking open the kitchen doors, Jax entered again, this time stomping his way through the crowded appliances until he came face to face with the green skin monstrosity that had started all of this.

"Oi, wat's dis little 'oomie doin' in me kitchen?" bawled the ork, mashing the rolling pin that he was still clutching against a side of grox that was hanging from a rack. The piece of heavy meat smashed against the wall with the power of the blow, sending bits and pieces of hamburger flying everywhere.

Jax looked up, gulped and held out a hand. "Hey, I'm Jax the new cook's assistant."

The ork looked at Jax, cocking his head to the side as if considering something.

'Probably whether or not to bash my brains out." Jax thought glumly.

They sat like that for a few tense movements, Jax reconsidering the intelligence of his decision and the ork tapping his rolling pin against his meaty shoulder. Finally the ork seemed to come to a decision and took Jax's hand in his own, completely covering it.

"Jax, I'm Skrugg, Skrugg Wurtooth. You ere' to help wid da kitchen?" he asked suspiciously and Jax frantically nodded his head in affirmative.

"DAT'S GREAT!" Skrugg bellowed and released Jax's entrapped hand. "I've bin needin' a propa gretch! Dat last git was too mouthy! We gunna work togetherz on dis…wait you not un' of dos weaky squigs ar ya?"

Jax didn't know what a squig was or half of what the cook was saying but he was most sincere in his answer. "No, no I'm no squig."

Skrugg guffawed, a big deep hearty sound, and clapped the ex-ganger on the back. "HA, we'll see about dis un!" Jax picked himself up from where he had fallen and dusted the flour off his overalls.

"So what do I do?"

Skrugg's gigantic maw crooked itself into what he supposed was a smile and one red eye winked. "O we'ur gonna have sum right fun!"

That scared him more than any amount of roaring the beast could have ever done.

…

Ten hours later a very tired and disheveled Jax lay on his stolen cot, recently retrieved along with a replacement locker from the storerooms down the hall, and tried to sleep. His hands were sore and puffy; thanks to the hundreds of dishes Skrugg had had him washing. When he wasn't scrubbing dirty pots and dishes, the ork tyrant had him running errands down to the storerooms, picking up and moving boxes and all other manner of busy work.

The greenskin seemed to find pleasure in seeing Jax do all the heavy lifting, but fortunately his comments were kept to a minimum as he was mostly occupied with cooking. Jax was thankful of this, he had already lost track of the times he was referred to as, grot, squig, git or some other orkish insult.

He rolled to his side, trying to find a comfortable spot, and draped his hand over his eyes. He'd have to see if he could steal a sleeping bag or something because the bare essentials as they were were just not cutting it. He pulled up his wool blanket to ward against the cold. The ship was in its night cycle and he supposed they shut of the heating to save power. Another thing to add to his list, a couple extra blankets.

A silent influx of cold and a soft creak announced the opening of the door to his cabin. Jax raised himself wearily to a half sitting position, shielding his eyes from the harsh light now emanating from the hallway.

A figure leaned in the open door frame, backlit by the light streaming in. He couldn't make out who it was but when they spoke it made visual confirmation wholly unnecessary.

"We have unfinished business ink blot." Tanya's scornful voice let him know who had come knocking.

'Scav!' Jax cursed and threw his blanket off and rose to his feet. "What are you doing here Tanya, I thought I made myself clear earlier, I'm not going to take you're shit."

The crew chief made her way into his room, arms crossed over her slim chest. Jax shifted uncomfortably in front of her dissecting gaze, suddenly very aware that he was dressed only in briefs and socks. His dozens of tattoos created a web of black on his otherwise pale muscular chest, thick scars marring the design in places. Now it was his turn to cross his arms as he tried again. "Go away; I have to get up at 0530 tomorrow to make breakfast. I don't have time to kick your ass."

With a rush, Tanya closed the distance between the two and Jax instinctively reached to protect his pride. Instead he found himself embraced by her wild charge, spent the next half second teetering on his heels, before falling ungracefully back onto his bunk. In a flash she was on top of him and Jax bucked wildly in an attempt to free himself. The smaller woman, in a surprising feat of strength managed to pin his arms to the bed, straddling his waist between her strong legs.

"Hold still you great lummox I'm trying to kiss you!" Tanya growled and Jax's head snapped up.

"What? What did you s-?" his query was smashed out of existence as his superior mashed her lips against his and his struggling ceased as realized she wasn't attacking him.

Well, not to kill anyways.

With a rush of escaping air she pulled away and Jax found himself staring into a very big pair of undoubtedly feminine brown eyes. "What the hell, I thought you hated me, now you're trying to jump my dick?"

"Oh I still think you're a shit for brains gang banger alright! But I also think you're hot, and that makes me feel the same!" she whispered in a sultry silken purr that he hadn't thought she would be capable of. "Why do you think I put you so far away from the others, if not to keep you all to myself?"

From her position on her waist she made a walking motion with her fingers, running them up his abs and onto his chest. She followed with her tongue, moving in a series of tiny circles, starting around his nipple and moving on to his collarbone before ending finally on his neck. But she didn't stop there, instead digging her teeth into his jugular, eliciting a sharp yelp from the man enslaved below.

"You're fucking insane!" he stammered, trying once again to buck her lithe form off of him, but it was no use she was too deeply entrenched and he barely suppressed as squeak as she dug in further.

"Mmm, crazy? Yeah maybe a little but aren't we all?" her surprisingly soft hand continued its tender ministrations and he was aware of the increasing pressure in his briefs, a pressure that was going to have to be relieved soon or suffer the consequences.

"Well aren't you a lucky boy, seems the equipment is adequate to the task at hand, quite adequate." She teased.

"You're still a bitch." He murmured half heartedly, placing one hand gingerly on his captor's thigh to signal his capitulation.

"Oh I know and after this I'll still be one," Tanya's voice was muffled as she pulled her grey t-shirt up over her head, pulling a black sports bra off with it. "But that doesn't mean we can't play nice." As Jax had suspected she didn't have a very large pair, but she was well defined, abs and arms hard with muscle.

"I guess." He shrugged and brought his hand to her chest, running his thumb around the sensitive skin. She shivered at his touch grabbing his hand and mashing it up against her chest.

"This isn't a romance flick gang rat, fuck me!" she heaved a sigh, clearly not satisfied with his tender approach.

"Yes Ma'am; with pleasure." He snarled, temper frayed, and threw her off him with one powerful thrust of his hips. She landed with a bump and a girlish squeak on the deck below and he was on her in a second, pinning her to the ground with one constricting hand at her neck and the other struggling to remove her pants below. Finally just ripping the belt off from around her slim waist, he yanked the pants down and revealed the skin tight black briefs she wore below. These he removed with as much force, actually managing to rip the fabric as he pulled them down her legs.

"That's more like it!" she laughed as he plowed into her, not even bothering to fully remove his undergarments. "Come on inky show a lady a good time!" her exclamations soon turned to moans and repeated requests for more. "Come on lazy!" even in her constrained position she managed to poke him painfully in the chest, "Light a fire under that ass and get to work, I'm not gonna go easy for the likes of you!"

"Damn, damn, damn!" Jax raged in return, "I have to get up at fucking 0530 tomorrow! Do you know how fucking early that is?"

"Fucking's right." She sniggered and Jax moaned in exasperation.

"Shut up!"

"Shut up Ma'am!"

"GARRRGH!"

…


End file.
